
ELIZA FRANCES ANDREWS 
From a photograph taken in 1865 



THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL OF 
A GEORGIA GIRL 



I 



THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL OF 
A GEORGIA GIRL 

1864-1865 



BY 
ELIZA FRANCES ANDREWS 



ILLUSTRATED FROM 
CONTEMPORARY PHOTOGRAPHS 




NEW YORK 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 

1908 



A 



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SEP 18 ^yua 

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Copyright, 1908, by 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 



Published September, 1908 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 



^ (3 H- 



CHAPTER 

Introduction 

I. Across Sherman's Track 
II. Plantation Life .... 

III. A Race with the Enemy 

IV. The Passing of the Confederacy 
V. In the Dust and Ashes of Defeat 

VI. FoRESHADOV. INGS OF THE RaCE PROBLEM 

VII. The Prologue to Reconstruction . 
Conclusion 



PAGE 

I 

19 

57 
129 

175 
218 
279 
336 
385 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 



Eliza Frances Andrews .... Frontispiece 
Photograph of the Original Manuscript of the Diary 



Metta Andrews 

^A Group of Confederate Children . 

A Belle of the Confederacy in Evening Dress 

From Beyond the Blockade .... 

Julia, Daughter of Mrs. Troup Butler . 
mVar-time Fashions 



Judge Garnett Andrews, 1827 

Mrs. Garnett Andrews, nee Annulet Ball, 1827 . 
The Old Bank Building in Washington, Ga., 1865 
Mrs. Sarah Ann (Hoxey) Brown .... 
A Group of Confederate Officers .... 
"^A Group of Confederate Belles .... 
Survivors of Judge Andrews's Household Servants 

Photographed, 1903 

Haywood, the Old Home of Judge Garnett Andrews 

Erected in 1794 or 1795 



22 

44 

80 

96 

110 . 
126 
134/ 
176 
180 
202 
260 
286 
298 

348' 

376 



X 



THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL OF A 
GEORGIA GIRL 

INTRODUCTION 

To edit oneself after the lapse of nearly half a century- 
is like taking an appeal from Philip drunk to Philip 
sober. The changes of thought and feeling between the 
middle of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twen- 
tieth century are so great that the impulsive young 
person who penned the following record and the white- 
haired woman who edits it, are no more the same than 
were Philip drunk with the wine of youth and passion 
and Philip sobered by the lessons of age and experi- 
ence. The author's lot was cast amid the tempest and 
fury of war, and if her utterances are sometimes out 
of accord with the spirit of our own happier time, it 
is because she belonged to an era which, though 
but of yesterday, as men count the ages of history, is 
separated from our own by a social and intellectual 
chasm as broad almost as the lapse of a thousand 
years. In the lifetime of a single generation the peo- 
ple of the South have been called upon to pass through 
changes that the rest of the world has taken centuries 
to accomplish. The distance between the armor-clad 



2 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

knight at Acre and the " embattled farmers " at Lex- 
ington is hardly greater than that between the feudal 
aristocracy which dominated Southern sentiment in 
i860, and the commercial plutocracy that rules over 
the destinies of the nation to-day. 

Never was there an aristocracy so compact, so 
united, so powerful. Out of a population of some 
9,000,000 whites that peopled the Southern States, 
according to the census of 1850, only about 300,000 
were actual slaveholders. Less than 3,000 of these — 
men owning, say, over 100 negroes each, constituted 
the great planter class, who, with a small proportion 
of professional and business men affiliated with them 
in culture and sympathies, dominated Southern senti- 
ment and for years dictated the policy of the nation. 
The more prominent families all over the country 
knew each other by reputation, if not by actual contact, 
and to be a member of the privileged few in one com- 
munity was an ex-ofEcio title to membership in all. 
To use a modern phrase, we were intensely " class 
conscious " and this brought about a solidarity of 
feeling and sentiment almost comparable to that cre- 
ated by family ties. Narrow and provincial we may 
have been, in some respects, but take it all in all, it is 
doubtful whether the world has ever produced a state 
of society more rich in all the resources for a thor- 
oughly wholesome, happy, and joyous life than ex- 
isted among the privileged *' 4,000 " under the peculiar 
civilization of the Old South — a civilization which has 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 3 

served its purpose in the evolution of the race and 
passed away forever. So completely has it vanished 
that the very language in which we used .to express 
ourselves is becoming obsolete. Many of our house- 
hold words, among them a name scarcely less dear 
than " mother," are a dead language. Others have a 
strangely archaic sound to modern ears. When .the 
diary was written, women were still regarded as " fe- 
males," and it was even permissible to have a " female 
acquaintance," or a *' male friend," when distinction 
of sex was necessary, without being relegated forth- 
with to the ranks of the ignobile vulgus. The words 
" lady " and " gentleman " had not yet been brought 
into disrepute, and strangest of all, to modern ears, 
the word " rebel," now so bitterly resented as casting 
a stigma on the Southern cause, is used throughout 
the diary as a term of pride and affectionate endear- 
ment. 

It is for the sake of the light it throws on the inner 
life of this unique society at the period of its dissolu- 
tion — a period so momentous in the history of our 
country — ^that this contemporaneous record from the 
pen of a young woman in private life, is given to the 
public. The uncompromising attitude of the writer's 
father against secession removed him, of course, from 
all participation in the political and official life of the 
Confederacy, and so this volume can lay claim to none 
of the dignity which attaches to the utterances of one 
narrating events " quorum pars magna fui/' But for 



4 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

this reason its testimony will, perhaps, be of more 
value to the student of social conditions than if it dealt 
with matters pertaining more exclusively to the domain 
of history. The experiences recounted are such as 
might have come at that time, to any woman of good 
family and social position; the feelings, beliefs, and 
prejudices expressed reflect the general sentiment of 
the Southern people of that generation, and this is my 
apology for offering them to the public. As an in- 
formal contemporaneous record, written with abso- 
lutely no thought of ever meeting other eyes than those 
of the author, the present volume can claim at least the 
merit of that unpremeditated realism which Is more 
valuable as a picture of life than detailed statistics of 
battles and sieges. The chief object of the writer in 
keeping a diary was to cultivate ease of style by daily 
exercise in rapid composition, and, incidentally, to 
preserve a record of personal experiences for her own 
convenience. This practice was kept up with more or 
less regularity for about ten years, but the bulk of the 
matter so produced was destroyed at various times in 
those periodical fits of disgust and self-abasement that 
come to every keeper of an honest diary in saner 
moments. The present volume was rescued from a 
similar fate by the intercession of a relative, who sug- 
gested that the period dealt with was one of such 
transcendent interest, embracing the last months of 
the war and the equally stormy times immediately fol- 
lowing, that the record of it ought to be preserved 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 5 

along with our other war reHcs, as a family heirloom. 
So little importance did the writer attach to the docu- 
ment even then, that the only revision made in chang- 
ing it from a personal to a family history, was to tear 
out bodily whole paragraphs, and even pages, that 
were considered too personal for other eyes than her 
own. In this way the manuscript was mutilated, in 
some places, beyond recovery. The frequent hiatuses 
caused by these elisions are marked in the body of the 
work by the usual signs of ellipsis. 

The original manuscript was written in an old day- 
book fished out of some forgotten corner during the 
war, when writing paper was as scarce as banknotes, 
and almost as dear, if measured in Confederate money. 
The pale, home-made ink, never too distinct, at best, is 
faded after nearly fifty years, to a light ocher, but 
little darker than the age-yellowed paper on which it 
was inscribed. Space was economized and paper 
saved by writing between the closely-ruled lines, and 
in a hand so small and cramped as to be often illegible, 
without the aid of a lens. The manuscript suffered 
many vicissitudes, the sheets having been torn from 
the covers and crumpled into the smallest possible space 
for better concealment in times of emergency. 

As a discourager of self-conceit there is nothing like 
an old diary, and I suppose no one ever knows what 
a full-blown idiot he or she is capable of being, who 
has not kept such a living record against himself. This 
being the case, the gray-haired editor may be pardoned 



6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

a natural averseness to the publication of anything 
that would too emphatically " write me down an ass '* 
— to borrow from our friend Dogberry — though I 
fear that in some of the matter retained in the 
interest of truth, I have come perilously near to that 
alternative. 

But while the " blue line " has been freely used, as 
was indispensable in an intimate private chronicle of 
this sort, it has not been allowed to interfere in any 
way with the fidelity of the narrative. Matter strictly 
personal to the writer — tiresome reflections, silly flirta- 
tions, and the like — has been omitted, and thoughtless 
criticisms and other expressions that might wound the 
feelings of persons now living, have been left out or 
toned down. Connectives, or other words are sup- 
plied where necessary for clearness; where more par- 
ticular information is called for, it is given in paren- 
theses, or in the explanatory notes at the heads of the 
chapters. Even the natural temptation to correct an 
occasional lapse into local barbarisms, such as " like " 
for " as," " don't " for " doesn't," or the still more 
unpardonable offense of applying the terms *' male '* 
and " female " to objects of their respective genders, 
has been resisted for fear of altering the spirit of the 
narrative by too much tampering with the letter. For 
the same reason certain palpable errors and misstate- 
ments, unless of sufficient importance to warrant a 
note, have been left unchanged — for instance, the 
absurd classing of B. F. Butler with General Sherman 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 7 

as a degenerate West Pointer, or the confusion be- 
tween fuit Ilium and ubi Troja fuit that resulted in 
the misquotation on page 190. For my " small Latin," 
I have no excuse to offer except that I had never been 
a school teacher then, and could enjoy the bliss of igno- 
rance without a blush. As to the implied reflection 
on West Point, I am not sure whether I knew any 
better at the time, or not. Probably I did, as I lived 
in a well-informed circle, but my excited brain was so 
occupied at the moment with thoughts of the general 
depravity of those dreadful Yankees, that there was 
not room for another idea in it. 

Throughout the work none but real names are em- 
ployed, with the single exception noted on page 105. 
In extenuation of this gentleman's bibulous propensi- 
ties, it must be remembered that such practices were 
much more common in those days than now, and were 
regarded much more leniently. In fact, I have been 
both surprised and shocked in reading over this story 
of a bygone generation, to see how prevalent was the 
use of wines and other alcoholic liquors, anci how 
lightly an occasional over-indulgence was regarded. 
In this respect there can be no doubt that the world 
has changed greatly for the better. When " gentle- 
men,'' as we were not afraid to call our men guests 
in those days, were staying in the house, it was a com- 
mon courtesy to place a bottle of wine, or brandy, or 
both, with the proper adjuncts, in the room of each 
guest, so that he might help himself to a " night-cap " 



8 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

on going to bed, or an " eye-opener " before getting 
up in the morning. It must also be taken into account 
that at this particular time men everywhere were 
ruined, desperate, their occupation gone, their future 
without hope, the present without resources, so that 
they were ready to catch at any means for diverting 
their thoughts from the ruin that enveloped them. 
The same may be said of the thoughtless gayety among 
the young people during the dark days preceding the 
close; it was a case of " eat, drink, and be merry, for 
to-morrow we die." 

In the desire to avoid as far as possible any unneces- 
sary tampering with the original manuscript, passages 
expressive of the animosities of the time, which the 
author would be glad to blot out forever, have been 
allowed to stand unaltered — not as representing the 
present feeling of the writer or her people, but because 
they do represent our feelings forty years ago, and to 
suppress them entirely, would be to falsify the record. 
While recognizing the bad taste of many of these 
utterances, which " Philip sober " would now be the 
first to repudiate, it must be remembered that he has 
no right to speak for *' Philip drunk," or to read his 
own present feelings into the mind of his predecessor. 
The diary was written in a time of storm and tempest, 
of bitter hatreds and fierce animosities, and its pages 
are so saturated with the spirit of the time, that to 
attempt to banish it would be like giving the play of 
Hamlet without the title-role. It does not pretend to 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 9 

give the calm reflections of a philosopher looking back 
dispassionately upon the storms of his youth, but the 
passionate utterances of stormy youth itself. It is in 
no sense a history, but a mere series of crude pen- 
sketches, faulty, inaccurate, and out of perspective, it 
may be, but still a true picture of things as the writer 
saw them. It makes no claim to impartiality; on the 
contrary, the author frankly admits that it is violently 
and often absurdly partisan — and it could not well 
have been otherwise under the circumstances. Com- 
ing from a heart ablaze with the passionate re- 
sentment of a people smarting under the humiliation 
of defeat, it was inevitable that along with the just 
indignation at wrongs which ought never to have been 
committed, there should have crept in many intem- 
perate and indiscriminate denunciations of acts which 
the writer did not understand, to say nothing of sopho- 
morical vaporings calculated now only to excite a smile. 
Such expressions, however, are not to be taken seri- 
ously at the present day, but are rather to be regarded 
as a sort of fossil curiosities that have the same value 
in throwing light on the psychology of the period to 
which they belong as the relics preserved in our 
geological museums have in illustrating the physical 
life of the past. Revolutions never take place when 
people are cool-headed or in a serene frame of mind, 
and it would be as dishonest as it is foolish to deny 
that such bitternesses ever existed. The better way 
is to cast them behind us and thank the powers of the 



lo THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

universe that they exist no longer. I cannot better 
express this feeHng than in the words of an old Con- 
federate soldier at Petersburg, Va., where he had gone 
with a number of his comrades who had been attending 
the great reunion at Richmond, to visit the scene of 
their last struggles under '' Marse Robert." They 
were standing looking down into the Crater, that awful 
pit of death, lined now with daisies and buttercups, 
and fragrant with the breath of spring. Tall pines, 
whose lusty young roots had fed on the hearts of dead 
men, were waving softly overhead, and nature every- 
where had covered up the scars of war with the mantle 
of smiling peace. I paused, too, to watch them, and 
we all stood there awed into silence, till at last an old 
battle-scarred hero from one of the wiregrass counties 
way down in Georgia, suddenly raised his hands to 
heaven, and said in a voice that trembled with emo- 
tion : " Thar's three hundred dead Yankees buried 
here under our feet. I helped to put 'em thar, but so 
help me God, I hope the like '11 never be done in this 
country again. Slavery's gone and the war's over 
now, thank God for both! We are all brothers once 
more, and I can feel for them lay in' down thar just 
the same as fur our own." 

That is the sentiment of the new South and of the 
few of us who survive from the old. We look back 
with loving memory upon our past, as we look upon 
the grave of the beloved dead whom we mourn but 
would not recall. We glorify the men and the memo- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL n 

ries of those days and would have the coming genera- 
tions draw inspiration from them. We teach the chil- 
dren of the South to honor and revere the civilization 
of their fathers, which we believe has perished not 
because it was evil or vicious in itself, but because, like 
a good and useful man who has lived out his allotted 
time and gone the way of all the earth, it too has 
served its turn and must now lie in the grave of the 
dead past. The Old South, with its stately feudal 
regime, was not the monstrosity that some would have 
us believe, but merely a case of belated survival, like 
those giant sequoias of the Pacific slope that have 
lingered on from age to age, and are now left standing 
alone in a changed world. Like every civilization that 
has yet been known since the primitive patriarchal 
stage, it was framed in the interest of a ruling class; 
and as has always been, and always will be the case 
until mankind shall have become wise enough to evolve 
a civilization based on the interests of all, it was 
doomed to pass away whenever changed conditions 
transferred to another class the economic advantage 
that is the basis of all power. It had outlived its day 
of usefulness and was an anachronism in the end of 
the nineteenth century — the last representative of an 
economic system that had served the purposes of the 
race since the days when man first emerged from his 
prehuman state until the rise of the modern industrial 
system made wage slavery a more efficient agent of 
production than chattel slavery. 



12 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

It is as unfair to lay all the onus of that institution 
on the Southern States of America as it would be to 
charge the Roman Catholic Church with the odium of 
all the religious persecutions of the sixteenth and 
seventeenth centuries. The spirit of intolerance was 
in the air; everybody persecuted that got the chance, 
even the saints of Plymouth Rock, and the Catholics 
did the lion's share only because there were more of 
them to do it, and they had more power than our 
Protestant forefathers. 

In like manner, the spirit of chattel slavery was in 
the race, possibly from its prehuman stage, and 
through all the hundreds of thousands of years that it 
has been painfully traveling from that humble begin- 
ning toward the still far-off goal of the superhuman, 
not one branch of it has ever awakened to a sense of 
the moral obliquity of the practice till its industrial 
condition had reached a stage in which that system 
was less profitable than wage slavery. Then, as the 
ethical sentiments are prone to follow closely the line 
of economic necessity, the conscience of those nations 
which had adopted the new industrialism began to 
awaken to a perception of the immorality of chattel 
slavery. Our Southern States, being still in the agri- 
cultural stage, on account of our practical monopoly of 
the world's chief textile staple, were the last of the 
great civilized nations to find chattel slavery less 
profitable than wage slavery, and hence the "great 
moral crusade "of the North against the perverse and 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 13 

unregenerate South. It was a pure case of economic 
determinism, which means that our great moral con- 
flict reduces itself, in the last analysis, to a question 
of dollars and cents, though the real issue was so 
obscured by other considerations that we of the South 
honestly believe to this day that we were fighting for 
States Rights, while the North is equally honest in 
the conviction that it was engaged in a magnanimous 
struggle to free the slave. 

It is only fair to explain here that the action of the 
principle of economic determinism does not imply by 
any means that the people affected by it are necessarily 
insincere or hypocritical. As enunicated by Karl 
Marx, under the cumbrous and misleading title of " the 
materialistic interpretation of history," it means sim- 
ply that the economic factor plays the same part in the 
social evolution of the race that natural selection and 
the survival of the fittest are supposed to play in its 
physical evolution. The influence of this factor is 
generally so subtle and indirect that we are totally 
unconscious of it. If I may be pardoned an illustra- 
tion from my own experience, I remember perfectly 
well when I myself honestly and conscientiously be- 
lieved the institution of slavery to be as just and sacred 
as I now hold it to be the reverse. It was according 
to the Bible, and to question it was impious and 
savored of " infidelity." Most of my contemporaries 
would probably give a similar experience. Not one of 
us now but would look upon a return to slavery with 



14 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

horror, and yet not one of us probably is conscious of 
ever having been influenced by the economic factor ! 

The truth of the matter is that the transition from 
chattel to wage slavery was the next step forward in 
the evolution of the race, just as the transition from 
wage slavery to free and independent labor will be the 
next. Some of us, who see our own economic ad- 
vantage more or less clearly in this transformation, 
and others who do not see it so clearly as they see the 
evils of the present system, are working for the change 
with the zeal of religious enthusiasts, while the capi- 
talists and their retainers are fighting against it with 
the desperation of the old Southern slaveholder against 
the abolitionist. But here, in justice to the South- 
erner, the comparison must end. He fought a losing 
battle, but he fought it honestly and bravely, in the 
open — not by secret fraud and cunning. His cause 
was doomed from the first by a law as inexorable as 
the one pronounced by the fates against Troy, but he 
fought with a valor and heroism that have made a 
lost cause forever glorious. He saw the civil fabric 
his fathers had reared go down in a mighty cataclysm 
of blood and fire, a tragedy for all the ages — ^but better 
so than to have perished by slow decay through ages 
of sloth and rottenness, as so many other great civiliza- 
tions of history have done, leaving only a debased and 
degenerate race behind them. It was a mediaeval civi- 
lization, out of accord with the modern tenor of our 
time, and it had to go; but if it stood for some out- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 15 

worn customs that should rightly be sent to the dust 
heap, it stood for some things, also, that the world can 
ill afford to lose. It stood for gentle courtesy, for 
knightly honor, for generous hospitality; it stood for 
fair and honest dealing of man with man in the com- 
mon business of life, for lofty scorn of cunning greed 
and ill-gotten gain through fraud and deception of 
our fellowmen — lessons which the founders of our 
New South would do well to lay to heart. 

And now I have just a word to say on a personal 
matter — a solemn amende to make to the memory of 
my dear father, to whose unflinching devotion to the 
Union these pages will bear ample testimony. While 
I have never been able to bring myself to repent of 
having sided with my own people, I have repented in 
sackcloth and ashes for the perverse and rebellious 
spirit so often manifested against him. How it 
was that the influence of such a parent, whom we all 
loved and honored, should have failed to convert his 
own children to his way of thinking, I do not myself 
understand, unless it was the contagion of the general 
enthusiasm around us. Youth is impulsive, and prone 
to run with the crowd. We caught the infection of 
the war spirit in the air and never stopped to reason 
or to think. And then, there were our soldier boys. 
With my three brothers in the army, and that glorious 
record of Lee and his men in Virginia, how was it 
possible not to throw oneself heart and soul into the 
cause for which they were fighting so gallantly ? And 



i6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

when the bitter end came, it is not to be wondered at 
if our resentment against those who had brought all 
these humiliations and disasters upon us should flame 
up fiercer than ever. In the expression of these feel- 
ings we sometimes forgot the respect due to our 
father's opinions and brought on scenes that were not 
conducive to the peace of the family. These lapses 
were generally followed by fits of repentance on the 
part of the offender, but as they led to no permanent 
amendment of our ways, I am afraid, that first and 
last, we made the old gentleman's life a burden to 
him. In looking back over the sufferings and disap- 
pointments of those dreadful years the most pathetic 
figure that presents itself to my memory is that of my 
dear old father, standing unmoved by all the clamor 
of the times and the waywardness of his children, in 
his devotion to the great republic that his father had 
fought for at Yorktown. I can see now, what I could 
not realize then, that the Union men in the South — the 
honest ones, I mean, like my father — sacrificed even 
more for their cause than we of the other side did for 
ours. These men are not to be confounded with the 
scalawags and traitors who joined the carpet-baggers 
in plundering their country. They were gentlemen, and 
most of them slaveholders, who stood by the Union, 
not because they were in any sense Northern sympa- 
thizers, but because they saw in division death for the 
South, and believed that in saving her to the Union 
they were saving her to herself. They suffered not 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 17 

only the material losses of the war, but the odium their 
opinions excited; and worst of all, the blank disillusion- 
ment that must have come to them when they saw 
their beloved Union restored only to bring about the 
riot and shame of Reconstruction. My father died 
before the horrors of that period had passed away; 
before the strife and hatred he so bitterly deplored 
had begun to subside; before he could have the satis- 
faction of seeing his grandson fighting under the old 
flag that his father had followed and that his sons had 
repudiated. Which of us was right? which was 
wrong? I am no Daniel come to judgment, and hap- 
pily, there is in my mind no reason to brand either side 
as wrong. In the clearer understanding that we now 
have of the laws of historical evolution, we know that 
both were right, for both were struggling blindly and 
unconsciously in the grasp of economic tendencies 
they did not understand, towards a consummation they 
could not foresee. Both were helpless instruments of 
those forces that were hurrying our nation forward 
another step in its evolutionary progress, and whatever 
of praise or blame may attach to either side for their 
methods of carrying on the struggle, the result belongs 
to neither; it was simply the working out of that 
natural law of economic determinism which lies at the 
root of all the great struggles of history. 

And now that we have learned wisdom through 
suffering; now that we have seen how much more can 
be accomplished by peaceful cooperation under the safe 



18 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

guidance of natural laws, than by wasteful violence, 
we are prepared to take our part intelligently in the 
next great forward movement of the race — a move- 
ment having for its object not merely a closer union 
of kindred states, but that grander union dreamed of 
by the poet, which is to find its consummation in 
" The parliament of man, the federation of the world." 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 19 



CHAPTER I 

ACROSS Sherman's track 

December 19-24, 1864 

Explanatory Note. — At the time of this narrative, the 
writer's eldest sister, Mrs. Troup Butler, was living alone 
with her two little children on a plantation in Southwest 
Georgia, between Albany and Thomasville. Besides our 
father, who was sixty-two when the war began, and a 
little brother who was only twelve when it closed, we 
had no male relations out of the army, and she lived there 
with no other protector, for a good part of the time, than 
the negroes themselves. There were not over a hundred 
of them on the place, and though they were faithful, and 
nobody ever thought of being afraid on their account, it 
was lonely for her to be there among them with no other 
white person than the overseer, and so the writer and a 
younger sister, Metta, were usually sent to be her com- 
panions during the winter. The summers she spent with 
us at the old home. 

But in the fall of 1864, while Sherman's army was 
lying around Atlanta like a pent-up torrent ready to burst 
forth at any moment, my father was afraid to let us get 
out of his sight, and we all stood waiting in our defense- 
less homes till we could see what course the destroying 
flood would take. Happily for us it passed by without 
engulfing the little town of Washington, where our home 
was situated, and after it had swept over the capital of 
the State, reaching Milledgeville November 23d, rolled 



20 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

on toward Savannah, where the sound of merry Christmas 
bells was hushed by the roar of its angry waters. 

Meanwhile the people in our part of Georgia had had 
time to get their breath once more, and began to look 
about for some way of bridging the gap of ruin and deso- 
lation that stretched through the entire length of our 
State. The Georgia Railroad, running from Atlanta to 
Augusta, had been destroyed to the north of us, and the 
Central of Georgia, from Macon to Savannah, was intact 
for only sixteen miles ; that part of the track connecting 
the former city with the little station of Gordon having 
Iain beyond the path of the invaders. By taking advan- 
tage of this fragment, and of some twelve miles of track 
that had been laid from Camack, a station on the unin- 
jured part of the Georgia railroad, to Mayfield, on what 
is now known as the Macon branch of the Georgia, the 
distance across country could be shortened by twenty-five 
miles, and the wagon road between these two points at 
once became a great national thoroughfare. 

By the middle of December, communication, though 
subject to many difficulties and discomforts, was so well 
established that my father concluded it would be prac- 
ticable for us to make the journey to our sister. We were 
eager to go, and would be safer, he thought, when once 
across the line, than at home. Sherman had industriously 
spread the impression that his next move would be on 
either Charleston or Augusta, and in the latter event, our 
home would be in the line of danger. Southwest Georgia 
was at that time a " Land of Goshen " and a " city of 
refuge " to harassed Confederates. Thus far it had never 
been seriously threatened by the enemy, and was supposed 
to be the last spot in the Confederacy on which he would 
ever set foot — and this, in the end, proved to be not far 
from the truth. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 21 

So then, after careful consultation with my oldest 
brother, Fred, at that time commandant of the Georgia 
camp of instruction for conscripts, in Macon, we set out 
under the protection of a reliable man whom my brother 
detailed to take care of us. It may seem strange to 
modern readers that two young women should have been 
sent off on such a journey with no companion of their 
own sex, but the exigencies of the times did away with 
many conventions. Then, too, the exquisite courtesy and 
deference of the Southern men of that day toward 
women made the chaperon a person of secondary im- 
portance among us. It was the " male protector " who 
was indispensable. I have known matrons of forty 
wait for weeks on the movements of some male acquaint- 
ance rather than take the railroad journey of fifty miles 
from our village to Augusta, alone ; and when I was sent 
off to boarding school, I remember, the great desideratum 
was to find some man who would pilot me safely through 
the awful difficulties of a railroad journey of 200 miles. 
Women, young or old, were intrusted to the care of any 
man known to their family as a gentleman, with a con- 
fidence as beautiful as the loyalty that inspired it. Under 
no other social regime, probably, have young girls been 
allowed such liberty of intercourse with the other sex as 
were those of the Old South — a liberty which the notable 
absence of scandals and divorces in that society goes 
far to justify. 

Dec. 24, 1864, Saturday. — Here we are in Macon 
at last, and this is the first chance I have had at 
my journal since we left home last Monday. Father 
went with us to Barnett, and then turned us over to 
Fred, who had come up from Augusta to meet us and 



22 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

travel with us as far as Mayiield. At Camack, where 
we changed cars, we found the train literally crammed 
with people going on the same journey with ourselves. 
Since the destruction of the Georgia, the Macon & 
Western, and the Central railroads by Sherman's 
army, the whole tide of travel between the eastern and 
western portions of our poor little Confederacy flows 
across the country from Mayfield to Gordon. Mett 
and I, with two other ladies, whom we found on the 
train at Camack, were the first to venture across the 
gap — 65 miles of bad roads and worse conveyances, 
through a country devastated by the most cruel and 
wicked invasion of modern times. 

As we entered the crowded car, two young officers 
gave up their seats to us and saw that we were made 
comfortable while Fred was out looking after the 
baggage. Near us sat a handsome middle-aged gen- 
tleman in the uniform of a colonel, with a pretty young 
girl beside him, whom we at once spotted as his bride. 
They were surrounded by a number of officers, and 
the bride greatly amused us, in the snatches of their 
conversation we overheard, by her extreme bookish- 
ness. She was clearly just out of school. The only 
other lady on the car was closely occupied with the 
care of her husband, a wounded Confederate officer, 
whom we afterwards learned was Maj. Bonham, of 
South Carolina. 

It is only eleven miles from Camack to Mayfield, 
but the road was so bad and the train so heavy that 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 23 

we were nearly two hours in making the distance. 
Some of the seats were without backs and some with- 
out bottoms, and the roadbed so uneven that in places 
the car tilted from side to side as if it was going to 
upset and spill us all out. We ate dinner on the cars 
— that is, Fred ate, while Metta and I were watching 
the people. The weather was very hot, and I sweltered 
like a steam engine under the overload of clothing I 
had put on to save room in my trunk. At three o'clock 
in the afternoon we reached Mayfield, a solitary shanty 
at the present terminus of the R.R. Fred had sent 
Mr. Belisle, one of his men, ahead to engage a con- 
veyance, and he met us with a little spring wagon, 
which he said would take us on to Sparta that night 
for forty dollars. It had no top, but was the choice 
of all the vehicles there, for it had springs, of which 
none of the others could boast. There was the mail 
hack, which had the advantage of a cover, but could 
not carry our trunks, and really looked as if it were too 
decrepit to bear the weight of the mail bags. We 
mounted our little wagon, and the others were soon all 
filled so full that they looked like delegations from the 
old woman that lived in a shoe, and crowds of pedes- 
trians, unable to find a sticking place on tongue or 
axle, plodded along on foot. The colonel and his 
wife were about to get into a rough old plantation 
wagon, already overloaded, but Fred said she was too 
pretty to ride in such a rattle-trap, and offered her a 
seat in ours, which was gladly accepted. We also 



24 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

made room for Dr. Shine,, one of the officers of their 
party, who, we afterwards found out, was a friend of 
Belle Randolph. 

About a mile from Mayfield we stopped at a forlorn 
country tavern, where Fred turned us over to Mr. 
Belisle, and went in to spend the night there,, so as to 
return to Augusta by the next train. I felt rather 
desolate after his departure, but we soon got into 
conversation with the colonel and his bride, the gentle- 
men who were following on foot joined in, and we 
sang rebel songs and became very sociable together. 
We had not gone far when big drops of rain began 
to fall from an angry black cloud that had been gradu- 
ally creeping upon us from the northwest. The bride 
raised a little fancy silk parasol that made the rest 
of us laugh, while Metta and I took off our hats and 
began to draw on shawls and hoods, and a young 
captain, who was plodding on foot behind us, hastened 
to offer his overcoat. When we found that he had a 
wounded arm, disabled by a Yankee bullet, we tried 
to make room for him in the wagon, but it was impos- 
sible to squeeze another person into it. Ralph, the 
driver, had been turned afoot to make room for Dr. 
Shine, and was walking ahead to act as guide in the 
darkness. 

Just after nightfall we came to a public house five 
miles from Sparta, where the old man lives from 
whom our wagons were hired, and we stopped to pay 
our fare and get supper, if anybody wanted it. He 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 25 

is said to be fabulously rich, and owns all the land for 
miles around, but he don't live like it. He is palsied 
and bed-ridden, but so eager after money that guests 
are led to his bedside to pay their reckoning into his 
own hands. Mett and I staid in the wagon and sent 
Mr. Belisle to settle for us, but the gentlemen of our 
party who went in, said it was dreadful to see how his 
trembling old fingers would clutch at the bills they paid 
him, and the suspicious looks he would cast around to 
make sure he was not being cheated. They could talk 
of nothing else for some time after they came out. 
We stopped at this place nearly an hour, while the 
horses were being changed and the drivers getting their 
supper. There was a fine grove around the house, but 
the wind made a dismal howling among the branches, 
and ominous mutterings of distant thunder added to 
our uneasiness. Large fires were burning in front of 
the stables and threw a weird glare upon the groups of 
tired soldiers gathered round them, smoking their pipes 
and cooking their scanty rations, and the flashing uni- 
forms of Confederate ofBcers, hurrying in and out, 
added to the liveliness of the scene. Many of them 
came to our wagon to see if they could do anything for 
us, and their presence, brave fellows, gave me a com- 
fortable feeling of safety and protection. Dr. Shine 
brought us a toddy, and the colonel and the captain 
would have smothered us under overcoats and army 
blankets if we had let them. 

When the horses were ready, we jogged on again 
3 



26 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

towards Sparta, which seemed to recede as we ad- 
vanced. Dr. Shine, who was driving, didn't know 
the road, and had to guide the horses by Ralph's direc- 
tion as he walked ahead and sung out : *' Now, pull to 
de right ! " '' Now, go straight ahead ! " " Take 
keer, marster, dar's a bad hole ter yo' lef','' and so on, 
till all at once the long-threatened rain began to pour 
down, and everything was in confusion. Somebody 
cried out in the darkness; " Confound Sparta! will we 
never get there? " and Ralph made us all laugh again 
with his answer : 

*' Yessir, yessir, we's right in de subjues er de town 
now." And sure enough, the next turn in the road 
revealed the lights of the village glimmering before 
us. We drove directly to Mr. William Simpson's, 
and when Metta and I had gotten out, the wagon went 
on with its other passengers to the hotel. We met 
with such a hearty reception from Belle and her mother 
that for the moment all our troubles were forgotten. 
A big, cheerful fire was blazing in the sitting-room, 
and as I sank into a soft easy chair, I felt my first 
sensation of fatigue. 

Next morning the sky was overcast, everything out- 
side was wet and dripping and a cold wind had sprung 
up that rattl.ed the naked boughs of a great elm, heavy 
with raindrops, against our window. As soon as the 
houseboy had kindled a fire, Mrs. Simpson's maid 
came to help us dress, and brought a toddy of fine old 
peach brandy, sweetened with white sugar. I made 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 27 

Mett take a big swig of it to strengthen her for the 
journey, as she seemed very weak; but not being ac- 
customed to the use of spirits, it upset her so that she 
couldn't walk across the floor. I was frightened 
nearly out of my wits, but she soon recovered and felt 
much benefited by her unintentional spree, at which 
we had a good laugh. 

We had a royal breakfast, and while we were eating 
it, Mr. Belisle, who had spent the night at the hotel, 
drove up with a four-mule wagon, in which he had 
engaged places for us and our trunks to Milledgeville, 
at seventy-five dollars apiece. It was a common plan- 
tation wagon, without cover or springs, and I saw Mr. 
Simpson shake his head ominously as we jingled off to 
take up more passengers at the hotel. There were 
several other conveyances of the same sort, already 
overloaded, waiting in front of the door, and a number 
of travelers standing on the sidewalk rushed forward 
to secure places in ours as soon as we halted. The 
first to climb in was a poor sick soldier, of whom no 
pay was demanded. Next came a captain of Texas 
Rangers, then a young lieutenant in a shabby uniform 
that had evidently seen very hard service, and after him 
our handsome young captain of the night before. He 
grumbled a little at the looks of the conveyance, but 
on finding we were going to ride in it, dashed off to 
secure a seat for himself. While we sat waiting 
there, I overheard a conversation between a country- 
man and a nervous traveler that was not calculated to 



28 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

relieve my mind. In answer to some inquiry about 
the chances for hiring a conveyance at Milledgeville, 
I heard the countryman say: 

*' Milledgeville's like hell; you kin get thar easy 
enough, but gittin' out agin would beat the Devil him- 
self." 

I didn't hear the traveler's next remark, but it must 
have been something about Metta and me, for I heard 
the countryman answer: 

" Ef them ladies ever gits to Gordon, they'll be good 
walkers. Sherman's done licked that country clean; 
d — n me ef you kin hire so much as a nigger an' a 
wheelbarrer." 

I was so uneasy that I asked Mr. Belisle to go and 
question the man further, because I knew that after 
her long attack of typhoid fever, last summer, Metta 
couldn't stand hardships as well as I could. When 
the captain heard me he spoke up immediately and said : 

" Don't give yourselves the slightest uneasiness, 
young ladies; I'll see that you get safe to Gordon, if 
you will trust to me." 

He spoke with an air of authority that was reassur- 
ing, and when he sprang down from the wagon and 
joined a group of officers on the sidewalk, I knew that 
something was in the wind. After a whispered con- 
sultation among them, and a good deal of running 
back and forth, he came to us and said that they had 
decided to " press " the wagon in case of necessity, to 
take the party to Gordon, and all being now ready, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 29 

we moved out of Sparta. We soon became very 
sociable with our new companions, though not one of 
us knew the other even by name. Mett and I saw 
that they were all dying with curiosity about us and 
enjoyed keeping them mystified. The captain said he 
was from Baltimore, and it was a sufficient introduc- 
tion when we found that he knew the Elzeys and the 
Irwins, and that handsome Ed Carey I met in Mont- 
gomery last winter, who used to be always telling me 
how much I reminded him of his cousin '' Connie." 
Just beyond Sparta we were halted by one of the 
natives, who, instead of paying forty dollars for his 
passage to the agent at the hotel, like the rest of us, 
had walked ahead and made a private bargain with 
Uncle Grief, the driver, for ten dollars. This 
" Yankee trick " raised a laugh among our impecuni- 
ous Rebs, and the lieutenant, who was just out of a 
Northern prison, and very short of funds, thanked 
him for the lesson and declared he meant to profit by 
it the next chance he got. The newcomer proved to 
be a very amusing character, and we nicknamed him 
" Sam Weller," on account of his shrewdness and 
rough-and-ready wit. He was dressed in a coarse 
home-made suit, but was evidently something of a 
dandy, as his shirt-front sported a broad cotton ruffle 
edged with home-made cotton lace. He was a rebel 
soldier, he said: "Went in at the fust pop and been 
a-fightin' ever since, till the Yankees caught me here, 
home on furlough, and wouldn't turn me loose till I ■ 



30 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

had took their infernal oath — beg your pardon, ladies 
— -the jig's pretty nigh up anyway, so I don't reckon 
it'll make much diff'rence." 

He told awful tales about the things Sherman's 
robbers had done ; it made my blood boil to hear them, 
and when the captain asked him if some of the rascals 
didn't get caught themselves sometimes — stragglers 
and the like — he answered with a wink that said more 
than words: 

''Yes; our folks took lots of prisoners; more'n'll 
ever be heard of agin." 

" What became of them? " asked the lieutenant. 

" Sent *em to Macon, double quick," was the laconic 
reply. " Got 'em thar in less'n half an hour." 

'* How did they manage it ? " continued the lieu- 
tenant, in a tone that showed he understood Sam's 
metaphor. 

" Just took 'em out in the woods and lost *em," he 
replied, in his jerky, laconic way. " Ever heerd o' 
losin' men, lady ? " he added, turning to me, with an 
air of grim waggery that made my flesh creep — for 
after all, even Yankees are human beings, though they 
don't always behave like it. 

" Yes," I said, " I had heard of it, but thought it a 
horrible thing." 

" I don't b'lieve in losin' 'em, neither, as a gener'l 
thing," he went on. " I don't think it's right princi- 
pul, and I wouldn't lose one myself, but when I see 
what they have done to these people round here, I 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 3^ 

can't blame 'em for losin' every devil of 'em they kin 
git their hands on." 

" What was the process of losing f asked the cap- 
tain. *' Did they manage the business with fire- 
arms? " 

" Sometimes, when they was in a hurry," Mr. 
Weller explained, with that horrible, grim irony of 
his, " the guns would go off an' shoot 'em, in spite of 
all that our folks could do. But most giner'ly they 
took the grapevine road in the fust patch of woods 
they come to, an' soon as ever they got sight of a tree 
with a grape vine on it, it's cur'ous how skeered their 
bosses would git. You couldn't keep 'em from run- 
nin' away, no matter what you done, an' they never 
run fur before their heads was caught in a grape 
vine and they would stand thar, dancin' on nothin' till 
they died. Did you ever hear of anybody dancin' on 
nothin' before, lady?" — turning to me. 

I said he ought to be ashamed to tell it; even a 
Yankee was entitled to protection when a prisoner 
of war. 

" But these fellows wasn't regular prisoners of 
war, lady," said the sick soldier; "they were thieves 
and houseburners," — and I couldn't but feel there was 
something in that view of it.* 

* In justice to both sides, it must be understood that the class 
of prisoners here referred to were stragglers and freebooters who 
had wandered off in search of plunder, and probably got no worse 
than they deserved when they fell into the hands of the enraged 
country people, who were naturally not inclined to regard the ex- 



32 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

About three miles from Sparta we struck the 
" Burnt Country," as it is well named by the natives, 
and then I could better understand the wrath and 
desperation of these poor people. I almost felt as if 
I should like to hang a Yankee myself. There was 
hardly a fence left standing all the way from Sparta 
to Gordon. The fields were trampled down and the 
road was lined with carcasses of horses, hogs, and 
cattle that the invaders, unable either to consume or 
to carry away with them, had wantonly shot down 
to starve out the people and prevent them from mak- 
ing their crops. The stench in some places was un- 
bearable; every few hundred yards we had to hold 
our noses or stop them with the cologne Mrs. Elzey 
had given us, and it proved a great boon. The dwell- 
ings that were standing all showed signs of pillage, 
and on every plantation we saw the charred remains 
of the gin-house and packing-screw, while here and 
there, lone chimney-stacks, *' Sherman's Sentinels," 
told of homes laid in ashes. The infamous wretches ! 
I couldn't wonder now that these poor people should 



propriation of their family plate and household goods and the 
burning of their homes as a part of legitimate warfare. There 
were doubtless many brave and honorable men in Sherman's 
army who would not stoop to plunder, and who did the best they 
could to keep from making war the " hell " their leader defined it 
to be, but these were not the kind who would be likely to get 
"lost." Those readers who care to inform themselves fully on 
the subject, are referred to the official correspondence between 
Gen. Sherman and Gen. Wade Hampton in regard to the treat- 
ment of " foragers." 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 33 

want to put a rope round the neck of every red-handed 
'' devil of them " they could lay their hands on. Hay 
ricks and fodder stacks were demolished, corn cribs 
were empty, and every bale of cotton that could be 
found was burnt by the savages. I saw no grain of 
any sort, except little patches they had spilled when 
feeding their horses and which there was not even a 
chicken left in the country to eat. A bag of oats 
might have lain anywhere along the road without 
danger from the beasts of the field, though I cannot 
say it would have been safe from the assaults of 
hungry man. Crowds of soldiers were tramping over 
the road in both directions; it was like traveling 
through the streets of a populous town all day. They 
were mostly on foot, and I saw numbers seated on 
the roadside greedily eating raw turnips, meat skins, 
parched corn — anything they could find, even picking 
up the loose grains that Sherman's horses had left. I 
felt tempted to stop and empty the contents of our 
provision baskets into their laps, but the dreadful ac- 
counts that were given of the state of the country 
before us, made prudence get the better of our gen- 
erosity. 

The roads themselves were in a better condition 
than might have been expected, and we traveled at a 
pretty fair rate, our four mules being strong and in 
good working order. When we had made about half 
the distance to Milledgeville it began to rain, so the 
gentlemen cut down saplings which they fitted in the 



34 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

form of bows across the body of the wagon, and 
stretching the lieutenant's army blanket over it, made 
a very effectual shelter. Our next halt was near a 
dilapidated old house where there was a fine well of 
water. The Yankees had left it, I suppose, because 
they couldn't carry it away. Here we came up with 
a wagon on which were mounted some of the people 
we had seen on the cars the day before. They 
stopped to exchange experiences, offered us a toddy, 
and brought us water in a beautiful calabash gourd 
with a handle full three feet long. We admired it so 
much that one of them laughingly proposed to *' cap- 
ture " it for us, but we told them we didn't care to 
imitate Sherman's manners. A mile or two further 
on we were hailed by a queer-looking object sitting on 
a log in the corner of a half-burnt fence. It was 
wrapped up in a big white blanket that left nothing 
else visible except a round, red face and a huge pair 
of feet. Before anybody could decide whether the 
apparition was a ghost from the lower regions or an 
escaped lunatic from the state asylum in his night- 
gown, Sam Weller jumped up, exclaiming: 

" Galvanized, galvanized ! Stop, driver, a galvan- 
ized Yankee ! " * 

As soon as Uncle Grief had brought his mules to a 
halt, the strange figure shuffled up to the side of the 
wagon and began to plead piteously, in broken Dutch, 

* Prisoners or deserters from the other side who enlisted in our 
army, were called " galvanized Yankees." 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 35 

to be taken in. He was shaking with a common ague 
fit, and though we couldn't help feeling sorry for him, 
he looked so comical as he stood there with his blanket 
drawn round him like a winding sheet and his little 
red Dutch face peering out at us with such an expres- 
sion of exaggerated and needless terror, that it was 
hard to repress a smile. The captain was about to order 
Uncle Grief to drive on without taking any further 
notice of him, but Sam Weller assured us that the 
country people would certainly hang him if they should 
catch him away from his command. They were too 
exasperated to make any distinction between a " gal- 
vanized " and any other sort of a Yankee — and to tell 
the truth, I think, myself, if there is any difference 
at all, it is in favor of those who remain true to their 
own cause. The kind-hearted lieutenant took his 
part, Mett and I seconded him, and the poor creature 
was allowed to climb into our wagon, where he curled 
himself up on a pile of fodder beside our sick soldier, 
who didn't seem to relish the companionship very 
much, though he said nothing. But Sam Weller 
couldn't let him rest, and immediately began to berate 
him for his imprudence in straggling off from his 
command at the risk of getting himself hanged, and 
to entertain him with enlivening descriptions of the 
art of " dancin' on nothin' " and the various methods 
of getting " lost." All at once he came to a sudden 
stop in his tirade, and asked, 

*' Iss you cot any money, Wappy ? " 



36 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

*' Nein, ich cot no more ash den thaler," quaked 
Hans. 

Then, pulling a fat roll of change bills out of his 
pocket, he ('' Sam") handed them to the Dutchman, 
saying : 

" Well, here's shin-plasters enough to cover you 
better than that there blanket, if you want them." 

Hans grabbed the money, which was increased by 
small contributions from the rest of us — not that we 
thought his enlistment in the Confederate army 
counted for anything, but we felt sorry for him, be- 
cause he was " sick and a stranger." After all, what 
can these ignorant foreigners be expected to know or 
care about our quarrel? 

Soon after this we came to a pretty, clear stream, 
where Uncle Grief stopped to water his horses and we 
decided to eat our dinner. Those of our companions 
who had anything to eat at all, were provided only 
with army rations, so Mett and I shared with them 
the good things we had brought from home. We 
offered some to Hans, and this started Sam off again : 

" Now, Wappy, see that ! " he cried. " The rebel 
ladies feed you; remember that the next time you go 
to burn a house down, or steal a rebel lady's watch ! 
I say," he shouted, putting his lips to Hans's ear, as 
the Dutchman seemed not to understand, *' remember 
how the rebel ladies fed you, when you turn Yank 
agin and go to drivin' women out-o'-doors and stealin' 
their clothes." 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 37 

Fortunately for " Wappy's " peace of mind he 
didn't know enough Enghsh to take in the long list of 
Yankee misdeeds that Sam continued to recount for 
his benefit, although he assured us that he could " un- 
terstant vat man say to him besser als he could dalk 
himselbst." The captain suspected him of putting on, 
and laughed at Metta and me for wasting sympathy 
on him, but the lieutenant shared our feelings, and I 
liked him for it. 

Just before reaching Milledgeville, Sam Weller got 
down to walk to his home, which he said was about 
two miles back from the highway. " Come, Wappy," 
he said, as he was climbing down, *' if you will go home 
with me, I will take care of you and put you in a 
horspittle where you won't be in no danger of gittin* 
lost. Can you valk doo milsh?" 

Hans replied in the affirmative, and scrambled down 
with a deal of groaning and quaking. Sam and the 
lieutenant assisted him with much real gentleness, and 
when he was on the ground, he tried to make a speech 
thanking the " laties unt shentlemansh," but it was in 
such bad English that we couldn't understand. 

" Now, don't lose the poor wretch," I said to Mr. 
Weller, as they moved off together. 

" No, no, miss, I won't do that," he answered in a 
tone of such evident sincerity that I felt Hans was 
safe in the care of this strange, contradictory being, 
who could talk so like a savage, and yet be capable of 
such real kindness. 



38 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Before crossing the Oconee at Milledgeville we as- 
cended an immense hill, from which there was a fine 
view of the town, with Gov. Brown's fortifications in 
the foreground and the river rolling at our feet. The 
Yankees had burnt the bridge, so we had to cross on a 
ferry. There was a long train of vehicles ahead of 
us, and it was nearly an hour before our turn came, 
so we had ample time to look about us. On our left 
was a field where 30,000 Yankees had camped hardly 
three weeks before. It was strewn with the debris 
they had left behind, and the poor people of the neigh- 
borhood were wandering over it, seeking for anything 
they could find to eat, even picking up grains of corn 
that were scattered around where the Yankees had 
fed their horses. We were told that a great many 
valuables were found there at first, — plunder that the 
invaders had left behind, but the place had been picked 
over so often by this time that little now remained 
except tufts of loose cotton, piles of half-rotted grain, 
and the carcasses of slaughtered animals, which raised 
a horrible stench. Some men were plowing in one 
part of the field, making ready for next year's crop. 

At the Milledgeville Hotel, we came to a dead halt. 
Crowds of uniformed men were pacing restlessly up 
and down the galleries like caged animals in a menag- 
erie. As soon as our wagon drew up there was a 
general rush for it, but our gentlemen kept possession 
and told Mett and me to sit still and hold it while 
they went in to see what were the chances for accom- 



1 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 39 

modation. After a hurried consultation with the other 
gentlemen of our party, they all collected round our 
wagon and informed us that they had " pressed " it 
into service to take us to Gordon, and we were to go 
on to Scotsborough that night. When all the baggage 
was in, the vehicle was so heavily loaded that not only 
the servants had to walk, but the gentlemen of the 
party could only ride by turns, one or two at a time. 
Our sick soldier was left at the hospital, and the 
bride's big trunks, that I wouldn't have believed all the 
women in the Confederacy had clothes enough to fill, 
were piled up in front to protect us against the wind. 
Uncle Grief looked the embodiment of his name while 
these preparations were going on, but a tip of ten 
dollars from each of us, and the promise of a letter 
to his master relieving him from all blame, quickly 
overcame his scruples. 

Night closed in soon after we left Milledgeville, and 
it began to rain in earnest. Then we lost the road, 
and as if that were not enough, the bride dropped 
her parasol and we had to stop there in the rain to look 
for it. A new silk parasol that cost four or five hun- 
dred dollars was too precious to lose. The colonel and 
the captain went back half a mile to get a torch, and 
after all, found the parasol lying right under her feet 
in the body of the wagon. About nine o'clock we 
reached Scotsborough, the little American " Cranford," 
where the Butlers used to have their summer home. Like 
Mrs. Gaskell's delightful little borough, it is inhabited 



40 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

chiefly by aristocratic widows and old maids, who 
rarely had their quiet lives disturbed by any event 
more exciting than a church fair, till Sherman's army 
marched through and gave them such a shaking up 
that it will give them something to talk about the rest 
of their days. Dr. Shine and the Texas captain had 
gone ahead of the wagon and made arrangements for 
our accommodation. The night was very dismal, and 
when we drew up in front of the little inn, and saw 
a big lightwood fire blazing in the parlor chimney, I 
thought I had never seen anything so bright and com- 
fortable before. When Mrs. Palmer, the landlady, 
learned who Metta and I were, she fairly hugged us 
off our feet, and declared that Mrs. Troup Butler's 
sisters were welcome to her house and everything in 
it, and then she bustled off with her daughter Jenny 
to make ready their own chamber for our use. She 
could not give us any supper because the Yankees had 
taken all her provisions, but she brought out a jar of 
pickles that had been hidden up the chimney, and 
gave us the use of her dining table and dishes — such 
of them as the Yankees had left — to spread our lunch 
on. While Charles and Crockett, the servants of Dr. 
Shine and the colonel, were unpacking our baskets in 
the dining-room, all our party assembled in the little 
parlor, the colonel was made master of ceremonies, 
and a general introduction took place. The Texas 
captain gave his name as Jarman; the shabby lieuten- 
ant in the war-worn uniform — all honor to it — was 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 41 

Mr. Foster, of Florence, Ala.; the Baltimorean was 
Capt. Mackall, cousin of the commandant at Macon, 
and the colonel himself had been a member of the 
Confederate Congress, but resigned to go into the 
army, the only place for a brave man in these times. 
So we all knew each other at last and had a good laugh 
together over the secret curiosity that had been de- 
vouring each of us about our traveling companions, 
for the last twenty-four hours. Presently Crockett 
announced supper, and we went into the dining-room. 
We had some real coffee, a luxury we owed the bride, 
but there was only one spoon to all the company, so 
she arranged that she should pour out the coffee, I 
should stir each cup, and Mett pass them to the 
guests, with the assurance that the cup was made 
sweeter '' by the magic of three pair of fair hands." 
Then Mrs. Palmer's jar of pickles was brought out 
and presented with a little tableau scene she had made 
up beforehand, even coaching me as to the pretty 
speeches I was to make. I felt very silly, but I hoped 
the others were too hungry to notice. 

Supper over, we returned to the parlor, and I never 
spent a more delightful evening. Riding along in the 
wagon, we had amused ourselves by making up im- 
promptu couplets to " The Confederate Toast," and 
now that we were comfortably housed, I thanked 
Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine for their efforts, in a 
pair of impromptu verses to the same air. This 
started up a rivalry in verse-making, each one trying 



42 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

to outdo the other in the absurdity of their composi- 
tion, and some of them were very funny. When we 
broke up for the night, there were more theatricals 
planned by the bride, who disposed a white scarf 
round her head, placed Metta and me, one on each 
side of her, so as to make a sort of tableau vivant on 
the order of a " Three Graces," or a '' Faith, Hope, 
and Charity " group, and backed slowly out of the 
room, bowing and singing, " Good Night." She 
really was so pretty and girlish that she could carry 
off anything with grace, but I hadn't that excuse, and 
never felt so foolish in my life. 

Mrs. Palmer's chamber, in which Metta and I were 
to sleep, was a shed room of not very inviting aspect, 
but the poor woman had done her best for us, and 
we were too tired to be critical. When I had put my 
clothes off and started to get into bed, I found there 
was but one sheet, and that looked as if half of Sher- 
man's army might have slept in it. Mett was too dead 
sleepy to care; '' Shut your eyes and go it blind," she 
said, and suiting the action to the word, tumbled into 
bed without looking, and was asleep almost by the 
time she had touched the pillow. I tried to follow 
her example, but it was no use. The weather had 
begun to turn very cold, and the scanty supply of bed- 
clothes the Yankees had left Mrs. Palmer was not 
enough to keep me warm. Then it began to rain in 
torrents, and presently I felt a cold shower bath de- 
scending on me through the leaky roof. Metta's side 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 43 

of the bed was comparatively dry, and she waked up 
just enough to pull the cotton bedquilt that was our 
only covering, over her head, and then went stolidly 
to sleep again. Meanwhile the storm increased till it 
was terrible. The rain seemed to come down in a 
solid sheet, and I thought the old house would be torn 
from its foundations by the fierce wind that swept 
over it. The solitary pine knot that had been our 
only light went out and left us in total darkness, but 
I was getting so drenched where I lay that I was 
obliged to move, so I groped my way to an old lounge 
that stood in a somewhat sheltered corner by the fire- 
place, and covered myself with the clothing I had 
taken off. The lounge was so narrow that I couldn't 
turn over without causing my cover to fall over on the 
floor, so I lay stiff as a corpse all night, catching little 
uneasy snatches of sleep between the wildest bursts of 
the storm. Early in the morning Mrs. Palmer and 
Jenny came in with bowls and pans to put under the 
leaks. There were so many that we were quite 
shingled over, as we lay in bed, with a tin roof of pots 
and pans, and they made such a rattling as the water 
pattered into them, that neither of us could sleep any 
more for laughing. The colonel had given us instruc- 
tions over night to be ready for an early start, so when 
another pine knot had been lighted on the hearth, we 
made haste to dress, before it burned out. 

Mrs. Palmer had contrived to spread us a scanty 
breakfast of hot waffles, fresh sausages, and parched 



44 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

wheat coffee. But the bride, as is the way of brides, 
was so long in getting ready that it was nearly ten 
o'clock before we started on our journey. It had 
stopped raining by this time, but the weather was so 
cold and cloudy that I found my two suits of clothing 
very comfortable. A bitter wind was blowing, and 
on all sides were to be seen shattered boughs and 
uprooted trees, effects of the past night's storm. The 
gentlemen had had all the baggage placed in front, and 
the floor of the wagon covered with fodder, where we 
could sit and find some protection from the wind. I 
should have felt tolerably comfortable if I had not 
seen that Metta was feeling ill, though she kept up 
her spirits and did not complain. She said she had 
a headache, and I noticed that her face was covered 
with ugly red splotches, which I supposed were caused 
by the wind chapping her skin. We put our shawls 
over our heads, but the wind played such antics with 
them that they were not much protection. The bride, 
instead of crouching down with us, mounted on top 
of a big trunk, the coldest place she could find, and 
cheered us with the comforting announcement that 
she was going to have pneumonia. It was beautiful 
to see how the big, handsome colonel devoted himself 
to her, and I half suspect that was at the bottom of 
her pneumonia scare — at least we heard no more of it. 
I offered her some of our brandy, and the doctor 
made her a toddy, but she couldn't drink it because 
it was grape and not peach. Everybody seemed dis- 




METTA ANDREWS 

(Mrs. T. U. Green) 

From a photograph taken in 1872 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 45 

posed to be silent and out of sorts at first, except Metta 
and me, who had not yet had adventures enough to 
surfeit us, and we kept on talking till we got the rest 
of them into a good humor. We made the gentlemen 
tell us what their various professions were before the 
war, and were delighted to learn that our dear colonel 
was a lawyer. We told him that our father was a 
judge, and that we loved lawyers better than anybody 
else except soldiers, whereupon he laughed and ad- 
vised the other gentlemen, who were all unmarried, 
to take to the law. I said that about lawyers for the 
doctor's benefit, because he looked all the time as if he 
were afraid one of us was going to fall in love with 
him. I laughed and told Mett that it was she that 
scared him, with her hair all cropped off from fever, 
and that dreadful splotched complexion. He heaped 
coals of fire on my head soon after, when I was cower- 
ing down in the body of the wagon, nearly dead with 
cold, by inviting me to get out and warm myself by 
taking a walk. My feet were so cold that they felt 
like lifeless clods and I could hardly stand on them 
when I first stepped to the ground, but a brisk walk 
of two miles warmed me up so pleasantly that I was 
sorry when a succession of mud holes forced me to 
get back into the wagon. 

About noon we struck the Milledgeville & Gordon 
R.R., near a station which the Yankees had burnt, 
and a mill near by they had destroyed also, out of 
pure malice, to keep the poor people of the country 



46 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

from getting their corn ground. There were several 
crossroads at the burnt mill and we took the wrong 
one, and got into somebody's cornfield, where we 
found a little crib whose remoteness seemed to have 
protected it from the greed of the invaders. We were 
about to " press " a few ears for our hungry mules, 
when we spied the owner coming across the fields and 
waited for him. The captain asked if he would sell 
us a little provender for our mules, but he gave such a 
pitiful account of the plight in which Sherman had left 
him that we felt as mean as a lot of thieving Yankees 
ourselves, for having thought of disturbing his prop- 
erty. He was very polite, and walked nearly a mile 
in the biting wind to put us back in the right road. 
Three miles from Gordon we came to Commissioners' 
Creek, of which we had heard awful accounts all along 
the road. It was particularly bad just at this time on 
account of the heavy rain, and had overflowed the 
swamp for nearly two miles. Porters with heavy 
packs on their backs were wading through the sloughs, 
and soldiers were paddling along with their legs bare 
and their breeches tied up in a bundle on their 
shoulders. They were literal sans culottes. Some 
one who had just come from the other side advised us 
to unload the wagon and make two trips of it, as it 
was doubtful whether the mules could pull through 
with such a heavy load. The Yankees had thrown 
dead cattle in the ford, so that we had to drive about 
at random in the mud and water, to avoid these uur 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 47 

canny obstructions. Our gentlemen, however, con- 
cluded that we had not time to make two trips, so 
they all piled into the wagon at once and trusted to 
Providence for the result. We came near upsetting 
twice, and the water was so deep in places that we 
had to stand on top of the trunks to keep our feet dry. 
Safely over the swamp, we dined on the scraps left 
in our baskets, which afforded but a scanty meal. The 
cold and wind had increased so that we could hardly 
keep our seats, but the roads improved somewhat as 
we advanced, and the aspect of the country was beau- 
tiful in spite of all that the vandalism of war had done 
to disfigure its fair face. Every few hundred yards 
we crossed beautiful, clear streams with luxuriant 
swamps along their borders, gay with shining ever- 
greens and bright winter berries. But when we struck 
the Central R.R. at Gordon, the desolation was more 
complete than anything we had yet seen. There was 
nothing left of the poor little village but ruins, charred 
and black as Yankee hearts. The pretty little depot 
presented only a shapeless pile of bricks capped by a 
crumpled mass of tin that had once covered the roof. 
The R.R. track was torn up and the iron twisted into 
every conceivable shape. Some of it was wrapped 
round the trunks of trees, as if the cruel invaders, not 
satisfied with doing all the injury they could to their 
fellowmen, must spend their malice on the innocent 
trees of the forest, whose only fault was that they 
grew on Southern soil. Many fine young saplings 



48 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

were killed in this way, but the quickest and most 
effective method of destruction was to lay the iron 
across piles of burning cross-ties, and while heated 
in the flames it was bent and warped so as to be en- 
tirely spoiled. A large force is now at work repairing 
the road; as the repairs advance a little every day, the 
place for meeting the train is constantly changing and 
not always easy to find. We floundered around in 
the swamps a long time and at last found our train 
in the midst of a big swamp, with crowds of people 
waiting around on little knolls and islands till the 
cars should be opened. Each group had its own fire, 
and tents were improvised out of shawls and blankets 
so that the scene looked like a gypsy camp. Here we 
met again all the people we had seen on the train at 
Camack, besides a great many others. Judge Baker 
and the Bonhams arrived a few minutes behind us, 
after having met with all sorts of disasters at 
Commissioners' Creek, which they crossed at a 
worse ford than the one we had taken. We found a 
dry place near the remains of a half -burned fence 
where Charles and Crockett soon had a rousing fire 
and we sat round it, talking over our adventures till 
the car was ready for us. There was a great scramble 
to get aboard, and we were all crowded into a little 
car not much bigger than an ordinary omnibus. Mett 
and I were again indebted to the kindness of soldier 
boys for a seat. We had about the best one in the 
car, which is not saying much, with the people jostling 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 49 

and pressing against us from the crowded aisle, but 
as we had only i6 miles to go, we thought we could 
stand it with a good grace. Metta's indisposition had 
been increasing all day and she was now so ill that I 
was seriously uneasy, but all I could do was to place 
her next to the window, where she would not be so 
much disturbed by the crowd. We steamed along 
smoothly enough for an hour or two, until just at 
nightfall, when within two miles of Macon, the train 
suddenly stopped and we were told that we should 
have to spend the night there or walk to town. The 
bridge over Walnut Creek, which had been damaged 
by Stoneman's raiders last summer, was so weakened 
by the storm of the night before that it threatened 
to give way, and it was impossible to run the train 
across. We were all in despair. Metta was really 
ill and the rest of us worn out with fatigue and loss 
of sleep, besides being half famished. Our provisions 
were completely exhausted; the fine grape brandy 
mother had put in the basket was all gone — looted, I 
suppose, by the servants — and we had no other medi- 
cine. A good many of the men decided to walk, 
among them our lieutenant, who was on his way home, 
just out of a Yankee prison, and eager to spend Christ- 
mas with his family. The dear, good-hearted fellow 
seemed loath to leave us in that plight, and offered to 
stay and see us through, if I wanted him, but I couldn't 
impose on his kindness to that extent. Besides, we 
still had the captain and the colonel, and all the rest 



50 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

of them, and I knew we would never lack for atten- 
tion or protection as long as there was a Confederate 
uniform in sight. Capt. Jarman and Dr. Shine joined 
the walkers, too, in the vain hope of sending an engine, 
or even a hand-car for us, but all their representations 
to Gen. Cobb and the R.R. authorities were fruitless; 
nothing could be done till morning, and a rumor got 
out among us from somewhere that even then there 
would be nothing for it but to walk and get our bag- 
gage moved as best we might. For the first time my 
spirits gave way, and as Metta was too ill to notice 
what I was doing, I hid my face in my hands and took 
a good cry. Then the captain came over and did his 
best to cheer me up by talking about other things. He 
showed me photographs of his sisters, nice, stylish- 
looking girls, as one would expect the sisters of such 
a man to be, and I quite fell in love with one of them, 
who had followed him to a Yankee prison and died 
there of typhoid fever, contracted while nursing him. 
As soon as it became known that Metta was sick, we 
were overwhelmed with kindness from all the other 
passengers, but there was not much that anybody 
could do, and rest, the chief thing she needed, was 
out of the question. At supper time the conductor 
brought in some hardtack that he had on board to feed 
the workmen, and distributed it among us. I was so 
hungry that I tried to eat it, but soon gave up, and 
my jawbones are sore yet from the effort. But the 
provisions that we had shared with our companions 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 51 

on the journey proved to be bread cast on the waters 
that did not wait many days to be returned. I had 
hardly taken my first bite of hardtack when Judge 
Baker invited Metta and me to share a nice cold 
supper with him; the bride offered us the only thing 
she had left — some real coffee, which the colonel had 
boiled at a fire kindled on the ground outside — and two 
ladies, strangers to us, who had got aboard at Gordon, 
sent us each a paper package containing a dainty little 
lunch of cold chicken and buttered biscuit. But Metta 
was too ill to eat. She had a high fever, and we both 
spent a miserable, sleepless night. 

At last day began to break, cold, clear, and frosty, 
and with it came travelers who had walked out from 
Macon bringing confirmation of the report that no 
arrangements would be made for carrying passengers 
and their baggage to the city. This news made us 
desperate. The men on board swore that the train 
should not move till some provision was made for 
getting us to our destination. This made the Gordon 
passengers furious. They said there were several 
women among them who had walked out from the 
city (two of them with babies in their arms), and the 
train should go on time, come what would. Our men 
said there were ladies in the car, too; we had paid our 
fare to Macon, and they intended to see that we got 
there. Each party had a show of right on its side, 
but possession is nine points of the law, and this ad- 
vantage we determined not to forego. The Gordon 



52 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

passengers began to crowd in on us till we could hardly 
breathe, and Capt. Mackall, in no gentle terms, or- 
dered them out. High words passed, swords and 
pistols were drawn on both sides, and a general fight 
seemed about to take place. Mett and I were fright- 
ened out of our wits at the first alarm and threw our 
arms about each other. I kept quiet till I saw the 
shooting about to begin, and then, my nerves all un- 
strung by what I had suffered during the night, I 
tuned up and began to cry like a baby. It was well I 
did, for my tears brought the men to their senses. 
Judge Baker and Col. Scott interfered, reminding 
them that ladies were present, and then arms were laid 
aside and profuse apologies made for having fright- 
ened us. Both parties then turned their indignation 
against the railroad officials, and somebody was mak- 
ing a bluster about pitching the conductor into the 
creek, when he appeared on the scene and appeased 
all parties by announcing that a locomotive and car 
would be sent out to meet the passengers for Macon 
on the other side of the creek and take us to the 
city. In the meantime, we were tantalized by hear- 
ing the whistles of the different trains with which 
we wished to connect, as they rolled out of the 
depot in Macon. 

It was eight o'clock before our transfer, consisting 
of an engine and a single box-car, arrived at the other 
end of the trestle, and as they had to be unloaded of 
their freight before we could get aboard, it was nearly 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 53 

ten when we reached Macon. But as soon as they were 
heard approaching, we were so glad to get out of the 
prison where we had spent such an uncomfortable 
night that we immediately put on our wraps and began 
to cross the tottering trestle on foot. It was 80 feet 
high and half a mile long, over a swamp through 
which flowed Walnut Creek, now swollen to a torrent. 
Part of the flooring of the bridge was washed down 
stream and our only foothold was a narrow plank, 
hardly wider than my two hands. Capt. Mackall 
charged himself with my parcels, and Mr. Belisle was 
left to look after the trunks. Strong-headed men 
walked along the sleepers on either side, to steady any 
one that might become dizzy. Just behind Metta, who 
followed the captain and me, hobbled a wounded 
soldier on crutches, and behind him came Maj. Bon- 
ham, borne on the back of a stout negro porter. Last 
of all came porters with the trunks, and it is a miracle 
to me how they contrived to carry such heavy loads 
over that dizzy, tottering height. 

Once across the bridge we disposed ourselves wher- 
ever we could find a firm spot — a dry one was out of 
the question. When Metta drew off her veil and 
gloves, I was terrified at the looks of her hands and 
face. We were both afraid she had contracted some 
awful disease in that dirty car, but the captain laughed 
and said he knew all about army diseases, and thought 
it was nothing but measles. When we got to Macon, 
Dr. Shine further relieved my mind by assuring me 



54 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

it was a mild case, and said she needed only a few days' 
rest. 

We reached the depot just ten minutes after the 
South- Western train had gone out, so we went to the 
Lanier House, and I at once sent Mr. Belisle for 
Brother Troup, only to learn that he had gone on the 
very train we had missed, to spend Christmas at his 
plantation. 

It was delightful to get into clean, comfortable 
quarters at the Lanier House. Metta got into bed 
and went right off to sleep, and I lay down for awhile, 
but was so often disturbed by friendly messages and 
inquiries that I got up and dressed for dinner. I put 
on my pretty flowered merino that had been freshened 
up with black silk ruchings that completely hid the 
worn places, and the waist made over with Elizabethan 
sleeves, so that it looked almost like a new dress, be- 
sides being very becoming, as the big sleeves helped out 
my figure by their fullness. I frizzed my hair and put 
on the head-dress of black velvet ribbon and gold 
braid that Cousin Sallie Farley gave me. I think I 
must have looked nice, because I heard several people 
inquiring who I was when I went into the dining-room. 
I had hardly put in the last pin when a servant 
came to announce that Mr. Charles Day, Mary's 
father, had called. He was the only person in the 
drawing-room when I entered and made a very singu- 
lar, not to say, striking appearance, with his snow- 
white hair framing features of such a peculiar dark 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 55 

complexion that he made me think of some antique 
piece of wood-carving. The impression was strength- 
ened by a certain stiffness of manner that is generally 
to be noticed in all men of Northern birth and educa- 
tion. Not long after, Harry Day called. He said 
that Mary * was in Savannah, cut off by Sherman so 
that they could get no news of her. He didn't 
even know whether mother's invitation had reached 
her. 

Gussie and Mary Lou Lamar followed the Days, 
and I was kept so busy receiving callers and answering 
inquiries about Mett that I didn't have time to find out 
how tired and sleepy I was till I went to bed. Judge 
Vason happened to be at the hotel when we arrived, 
and insisted that we should pack up and go with him 
to Albany next day and stay at his house till we were 
both well rid of the measles — for it stands to reason 
that I shall take it after nursing Metta. He said that 
it had just been through his family from A to Z, so 
there was no danger of our communicating it to any- 
body there. Then Mrs. Edward Johnston came and 
proposed taking us to her house, and on Dr. Shine's 
advice I decided to accept this invitation, as it would 
hardly be prudent for Metta to travel in her present 
condition, and we could not get proper attention for 
her at the hotel. I could not even get a chamber- 
maid without going the whole length of the corridor 



* This attractive and accomplished young woman afterwards 
became the wife of Sidney Lanier, America's greatest poet. 



56 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

to ring the bell and waiting there till somebody came 
to answer it. 

The colonel and his party left on the one o'clock train 
that night for Columbus, where they expect to take 
the boat for Apalachicola. After taking leave of them 
I went to bed, and if ever any mortal did hard sleeping, 
I did that night. Next day Mr. Johnston called in his 
carriage and brought us to his beautiful home on Mul- 
berry St., where we are lodged like princesses, in a 
bright, sunny room that makes me think of old Chau- 
cer's lines that I have heard Cousin Liza quote so 
often : 

" This is the port of rest from troublous toile, 
The world's sweet inne from paine and wearisome turmoile." 

[Note. — Several pages are torn from the manuscript here. — 
Author.] 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 57 



CHAPTER II 

PLANTATION LIFE 

January i — April 3, 1865 

Explanatory Note. — During the period embraced in 
this chapter the great black tide of destruction that had 
swept over Georgia turned its course northward from 
Savannah to break a few weeks later (Feb. 17) in a cata- 
ract of blood and fire on the city of Columbia. At the 
same time the great tragedy of Andersonville was going 
on under our eyes ; and farther off, in Old Virginia, Lee 
and his immortals were struggling in the toils of the 
net that was drawing them on to the tragedy of Ap- 
pomattox. To put forward a trivial narrative of every- 
day life at a time when mighty events like these were 
taking place would seem little less than an impertinence, 
did we not know that it is the ripple mark left on the sand 
that shows where the tide came in, and the simple un- 
dergrowth of the forest gives a character to the land- 
scape without which the most carefully-drawn picture 
would be incomplete. 

On the other hand, the mighty drama that was being 
enacted around us reflected itself in the minutest details 
of life, even our sports and amusements being colored 
by it, as the record of the diary will show. The 
present chapter opens with allusions to an expedition 
sent out by Sherman from Savannah under Gen. Kil- 
patrick, having for its object the destruction of the Stock- 



58 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

ade at Andersonville, and release of the prisoners to 
wreak their vengeance on the people whom they believed 
to be responsible for their sufferings. The success of 
this movement was frustrated only by the incessant rains 
of that stormy winter, which flooded the intervening 
country so that it was impossible for even the best 
equipped cavalry to pass, and thus averted what might 
have been the greatest tragedy of the war. 

It is not my purpose to dwell upon public events in 
these pages, nor to revive the dark memories of Ander- 
sonville, but a few words concerning it are necessary to 
a clear understanding of the allusions made to it in this 
part of the record, and to a just appreciation of the 
position of the Southern people in regard to that deplo- 
rable episode of the war. Owing to the policy of the 
Federal Government in refusing to exchange prisoners, 
and to the ruin and devastation of war, which made it 
impossible for the Confederate government to provide 
adequately for its own soldiers, even with the patriotic 
aid of our women, the condition of our prisons was any- 
thing but satisfactory, both from lack of supplies and 
from the unavoidable over-crowding caused by the fail- 
ure of all efforts to effect an exchange. Mr. Tanner, 
ex-Commander of the G. A. R., who is the last person in 
the world whom one would think of citing as a witness for 
the South, bears this unconscious testimony to the force of 
circumstances that made it impossible for our govern- 
ment to remedy that unhappy situation : 

" It is true that more prisoners died in Northern prisons than 
Union prisoners died in Southern prisons. The explanation of 
this is extremely simple. The Southern prisoners came North 
worn and emaciated — half starved. They had reached this con- 
dition because of their scant rations. They came from a mild 
climate to a rigorous Northern climate, and, although we 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 59 

gave them shelter and plenty to eat, they could not stand the 
change." 

This argument, intended as a defense of the North, 
is a boomerang whose force as a weapon for the other 
side it is unnecessary to point out. Whether the condi- 
tions at Andersonville might have been ameliorated by 
the personal efforts of those in charge, I do not know. 
I never met Capt. Wirz, but I do know that had he 
been an angel from heaven, he could not have changed 
the pitiful tale of suffering from privation and hunger 
unless he had possessed the power to repeat the miracle 
of the loaves and fishes. I do know, too, that the 
sufferings of the prisoners were viewed with the deepest 
compassion by the people of the neighborhood, as the 
diary will show, and they would gladly have relieved 
them if they had been able. In the fall of 1864, when 
it was feared that Sherman would send a raid to free 
the prisoners and turn them loose upon the defenseless 
country, a band of several thousand were shipped round 
by rail to Camp Lawton, near Millen, to get them out 
of his way. Later, when he had passed on, after destroy- 
ing the railroads, these men were marched back overland 
to Andersonville, and the planters who lived along the 
road had hampers filled with such provisions as could be 
hastily gotten together and placed before them. Among 
those who did this were my sister, Mrs. Troup Butler, 
and her neighbors, the Bacons, so frequently mentioned in 
this part of the diary. My sister says that she had every 
drop of milk and clabber in her dairy brought out and 
given to the poor fellows, and she begged the officer to 
let them wait till she could have what food she could 
spare cooked for them. This, however, being impossible, 
she had potatoes and turnips and whatever else could be 
eaten raw, hastily collected by the servants and strewn in 



6o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the road before them. I have before me, as I write, a 
very kind letter from an old Union soldier, in which he 
says that he was one of the men fed on this occasion, 
and he adds : " I still feel thankful for the help we got 
that day." He gives his name as S. S. Andrews, Co. K, 
64th Ohio Vols., and his present address as Tularosa, 
Mexico. 

But it is hardly to be expected that men half -crazed by 
suffering and for the most part ignorant of their own 
government's responsibility in the matter, should dis- 
criminate very closely in apportioning the blame for their 
terrible condition. Accustomed to the bountiful pro- 
vision made for its soldiers by the richest nation in the 
world, they naturally enough could not see the tragic 
humor of their belief, when suddenly reduced to Con- 
federate army rations, that they were the victims of a 
deliberate plot to starve them to death ! 

Anot^her difficulty with which the officers in charge of 
the stockade had to contend was the lack of a sufficient 
force to guard so large a body of prisoners. At one time 
there were over 35,000 of them at Andersonville alone — 
a number exceeding Lee's entire force at the close of 
the siege of Petersburg. The men actually available for 
guarding this great army, were never more than 1,200 or 
1,500, and these were drawn from the State Reserves, 
consisting of boys under eighteen and invalided or super- 
annuated men unfit for active service. At almost any 
time during the year 1864- 1865, if the prisoners had 
realized the weakness of their guard, they could, by a 
concerted assault, have overpowered them. At the time 
of Kilpatrick's projected raid, their numbers had been 
reduced to about 7,500, by distributing the excess to other 
points and by the humane action of the Confederate au- 
thorities in releasing, without equivalent, 15,000 sick and 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 6i 

wounded, and actually forcing them, as a free gift, upon 
the unwilling hospitality of their own government. 

But even allowing for this diminution, the conse- 
quences of turning loose so large a body of men, natu- 
rally incensed and made desperate by suffering, to incite 
the negroes and ravage the country, while there were only 
women and children and old men left on the plantations 
to meet their fury, can hardly be imagined, even by those 
who have seen the invasion of an organized army. The 
consternation of my father, when he found that he had 
sent us into the jaws of this danger instead of the security 
and rest he had counted on, cannot be described. Hap- 
pily, the danger was over before he knew of its existence, 
but communication was so slow and uncertain in those 
days that a long correspondence at cross purposes ensued 
before his mind was set at rest. 

It may seem strange to the modern reader that in the 
midst of such tremendous happenings we could find it in 
our hearts to go about the common business of life; 
to laugh and dance and be merry in spite of the crumbling 
of the social fabric about us. But so it has always been ; 
so it was " in the days of Noe," and so, we are told, 
will it be " in the end of the world." Youth will have 
its innings, and never was social life in the old South 
more full of charm than when tottering to its fall. South- 
west Georgia, being the richest agricultural section of 
the State, and remote from the scene of military opera- 
tions, was a favorite resort at that time for refugees 
from all parts of the seceded States, and the society 
of every little country town was as cosmopolitan as that 
of our largest cities had been before the war. The deartli 
of men available for social functions that was so con- 
spicuous in other parts of the Confederacy remote from 
the seat of war, did not exist here, because the impor- 



62 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

tance of so rich an agricultural region as a source of food 
supply for our armies, and the quartering of such large 
bodies of prisoners at Andersonville and Millen, neces- 
sitated the presence of a large number of officers con- 
nected with the commissary and quartermaster's depart- 
ments. These were, for the most part, men who, on 
account of age, or chronic infirmity, or injuries received 
in battle, were unfit for service in the field. There were 
large hospitals, too, in all the towns and villages to which 
disabled soldiers from the front were sent as fast as 
they were able to bear the transportation, in order to 
relieve the congestion in the neighborhood of the armies. 
Those whose wounds debarred them from further serv- 
ice, and whose homes were in possession of the enemy, 
were received into private houses and cared for by the 
women of the South till the end of the war. 

My sister's white family at the time of our arrival 
consisted of herself and two little children, Tom and 
Julia, and Mr. Butler's invalid sister, Mrs. Julia Meals, a 
pious widow of ample means which it was her chief ambi- 
tion in life to spend in doing good. The household was 
afterwards increased by the arrival of Mrs. Julia Butler 
(also called in the diary, Mrs. Green Butler) the widow 
of Mr. Greenlee Butler, who had died not long before 
in the army. He was the elder and only brother of my 
sister's husband. Col. Maxwell, of Gopher Hill, was an 
uncle of my brother-in-law, the owner of several large 
plantations, where he was fond of practicing the old- 
time Southern hospitality. The " Cousin Boiling " so fre- 
quently mentioned, was Dr. Boiling A. Pope, a stepson 
of my mother's youngest sister, Mrs. Alexander Pope, 
of Washington, Ga., the '' Aunt Cornelia " spoken of in a 
later chapter. He was in Berlin when the war began, 
where he had spent several years preparing himself as a 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 63 

specialist in diseases of the eye and ear, but returned 
when hostihties began, and was assigned to duty as a 
surgeon. The Tallassee Plantation to which reference 
is made, was an estate owned by my father near Albany, 
Ga., where the family were in the habit of spending the 
winters, until he sold it and transferred his principal 
planting interests to the Yazoo Delta in Mississippi. 
Mt. Enon was a little log church where services were 
held by a refugee Baptist minister, and, being the only 
place of worship in the neighborhood, was attended by 
people of all denominations. The different homes and 
families mentioned were those of well-known planters 
in that section, or of refugee friends who had temporarily 
taken up their abode there. 



Jan. ist, 1865. Sunday. Pine Bluff. — A beautiful 
clear day, but none of us went to church. Sister was 
afraid of the bad roads, Metta, Mrs. Meals, Julia and 
I all sick. I think I am taking measles. 

Jan. II, Wednesday. — I am just getting well of 
measles, and a rough time I had of it. Measles is no such 
small affair after all, especially when aggravated by 
perpetual alarms of Yankee raiders. For the last week 
we have lived in a state of incessant fear. All sorts of 
rumors come up the road and down it, and we never 
know what to believe. Mett and I have received re- 
peated letters from home urging our immediate return, 
but of course it was impossible to travel while I was sick 
in bed, and even now I am not strong enough to under- 
take that terrible journey across the burnt country 
again. While I was ill, home was the one thought 



64 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

that haunted my brain, and if I ever do get back, I 
hope I will have sense enough to stay there. I don't 
think I ever suffered so much before in all my life, and 
dread of the Yankees raised my fever to such a pitch 
that I got no rest by night or day. I used to feel very 
brave about Yankees, but since I have passed over 
Sherman's track and seen what devastation they 
make, I am so afraid of them that I believe I should 
drop down dead if one of the wretches should come 
into my presence. I would rather face them anywhere 
than here in South- West Georgia, for the horrors of 
the stockade have so enraged them that they will have 
no mercy on this country, though they have brought it 
all on themselves, the cruel monsters, by refusing to 
exchange prisoners. But it is horrible, and a blot on 
the fair name of our Confederacy. Mr. Robert Bacon 
says he has accurate information that on the first of 
December, 1864, there were 13,010 graves at Ander- 
son. It is a dreadful record. I shuddered as I passed 
the place on the cars, with its tall gibbet full of hor- 
rible suggestiveness before the gate, and its seething 
mass of humanity inside, like a swarm of blue flies 
crawling over a grave. It is said that the prisoners 
have organized their own code of laws among them- 
selves, and have established courts of justice before 
which they try offenders, and that they sometimes 
condemn one of their number to death. It is horrible 
to think of, but what can we poor Confederates do? 
The Yankees won't exchange prisoners, and our own 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 65 

soldiers in the field don't fare much better than these 
poor creatures. Everybody is sorry for them, and 
wouldn't keep them here a day if the government at 
Washington didn't force them on us. And yet they 
lay all the blame on us. Gen. Sherman told Mr. Cuy- 
ler that he did not intend to leave so much as a blade 
of grass in South-West Georgia, and Dr. Janes told 
sister that he (Sherman) said he would be obliged to 
send a formidable raid here in order to satisfy the 
clamors of his army, -though he himself, the fiend 
Sherman, dreaded it on account of the horrors that 
would be committed. What Sherman dreads must 
indeed be fearful. They say his soldiers have sworn 
that they will spare neither man, woman nor child in 
all South-West Georgia. It is only a question of 
time, I suppose, when all this will be done. It begins 
to look as if the Yankees can do whatever they please 
and go wherever they wish — except to heaven; I do 
fervently pray the good Lord will give us rest from 
them there. 

While I was at my worst, Mrs. Lawton came out 
with her brother-in-law, Mr. George Lawton, and Dr. 
Richardson, Medical Director of Bragg's army, to 
make sister a visit. The doctor came into my room 
and prescribed for me and did me more good by his 
cheerful talk than by his prescription. He told me 
not to think about the Yankees, and said that he would 
come and carry me away himself before I should fall 
into their hands. His medicine nearly killed me. It 



66 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

was a big dose of opium and whisky, that drove me 
stark crazy, but when I came to myself I felt much 
better. Dr. Janes was my regular physician and had 
the merit of not giving much medicine, but he fright- 
ened me horribly with his rumors about Yankee 
raiders. We are safe from them for the present, at 
any rate, I hope; the swamps of the Altamaha are so 
flooded that it would take an army of Tritons to get 
over them now. 

All this while that I have been sick, Metta has been 
going about enjoying herself famously. There is a 
party at Mr. Callaway's from Americus, which makes 
the neighborhood very gay. Everybody has called, 
but I had to stay shut up in my room and miss all the 
fun. . . . Brother Troup has come down from Macon 
on a short furlough, bringing with him a Maj. Higgins 
from Mississippi, who is much nicer than his name. 
He is a cousin of Dr. Richardson. The rest of the 
family were out visiting all the morning, leaving me 
with Mrs. Meals, who entertained me by reading aloud 
from Hannah More. As my eyes are still too weak 
from measles for me to read much myself, I was glad 
to be edified by Hannah More, rather than be left to 
my own dull company. The others came back at 
three, and then, just as we were sitting down to 
dinner, the Mallarys called and spent the rest of the 
day. We ate no supper, but went to bed on an egg- 
nog at midnight. 

Jan. 12, Thursday. — The rest of them out visiting 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL (^7 

again all the morning, leaving me to enjoy life with 
Mrs. Meals and Hannah More. The Edwin Bacons 
and Merrill Callaway and his bride were invited to 
spend the evening with us and I found it rather dull. 
I am just sick enough to be a bore to myself and every- 
body else. Merrill has married Katy Furlow, of 
Americus, and she says that soon after my journey 
home last spring she met my young Charlestonian, and 
that he went into raptures over me, and said he never 
was so delighted with anybody in his life, so it seems 
the attraction was mutual. I have a letter from Tolie ; 
she is living in Montgomery, supremely happy, of 
course, as a bride should be. She was sadly disap- 
pointed at my absence from the wedding. The city 
is very gay, she says, and everybody inquiring about 
me and wanting me to come. If I wasn't afraid the 
Yankees might cut me off from home and sister, too, 
I would pick up and go now. Yankee, Yankee, is the 
one detestable word always ringing in Southern ears. 
If all the words of hatred in every language under 
heaven were lumped together into one huge epithet of 
detestation, they could not tell how I hate Yankees. 
They thwart all my plans, murder my friends, and 
make my life miserable. 

Jan. i2,th, Friday. — Col. Blake, a refugee from 
Mississippi, and his sister-in-law. Miss Connor, dined 
with us. While the gentlemen lingered over their 
wine after dinner, we ladies sat in the parlor making 
cigarettes for them. The evening was spent at cards, 



68 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

which bored me not a little, for I hate cards; they are 
good for nothing but to entertain stupid visitors with, 
and Col. Blake and Miss Connor do not belong in that 
category. Mett says she don't like the old colonel be- 
cause he is too pompous, but that amuses me, — and 
then, he is such a gentleman. 

The newspapers bring accounts of terrible floods all 
over the country. Three bridges are washed away on 
the Montgomery & West Point R.R., so that settles 
the question of going to Montgomery for the present. 
Our fears about the Yankees are quieted, too, there 
being none this side of the Altamaha, and the swamps 
impassable. 

Jan. 14th, Saturday. — Brother Troup and Maj. 
Higgins left for Macon, and sister drove to Albany 
with them. She expects to stay there till Monday and 
then bring Mrs. Sims out with her. We miss Maj. 
Higgins very much; he was good company, in spite of 
that horrible name. Jim Chiles called after dinner, 
with his usual budget of news, and after him came 
Albert Bacon to offer us the use of his father's car- 
riage while sister has hers in Albany. 

Father keeps on writing for us to come home. 
Brother Troup says he can send us across the country 
from Macon in a government wagon, with Mr. Forline 
for an escort, if the rains will ever cease; but we can't 
go now on account of the bad roads and the floods up 
the country. Bridges are washed away in every direc- 
tion, and the water courses impassable. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 69 

Jan. i^th, Sunday. — Went to church at Mt. Enon 
with Albert Bacon, and saw everybody. It was pleas- 
ant to meet old friends, but I could not help thinking 
of poor Annie Chiles's grave at the church door. One 
missing in a quiet country neighborhood like this 
makes a great gap. This was the Sunday for Dr. Hill- 
yer to preach to the negroes and administer the com- 
munion to them. They kept awake and looked very 
much edified while the singing was going on, but most 
of them slept through the sermon. The women were 
decked out in all their Sunday finery and looked so 
picturesque and happy. It is a pity that this glorious 
old plantation life should ever have to come to an end. 

Albert Bacon dined with us and we spent the after- 
noon planning for a picnic at Mrs. Henry Bacon's lake 
on Tuesday or Wednesday. The dear old lake! I 
want to see it again before its shores are desecrated by 
Yankee feet. 

I wish sister would hurry home, on account of the 
servants. We can't take control over them, and they 
won't do anything except just what they please. As 
soon as she had gone, Mr. Ballou, the overseer, took 
himself off and only returned late this evening. Har- 
riet, Mrs. Green Butler's maid, is the most trifling of 
the lot, but I can stand anything from her because she 
refused to go off with the Yankees when Mrs. Butler 
had her in Marietta last summer. Her mother went, 
and tried to persuade Harriet to go, too, but she 
said : " I loves Miss Julia a heap better'n I do 



70 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

you," and remained faithful. Sister keeps her here 
because Mrs. Butler is a refugee and without a home 
herself. 

Jan. 1 6, Monday. — Sister has come back, bringing 
dear little Mrs. Sims with her. Metta and I are to 
spend next week in Albany with Mrs. Sims, if we are 
not all water-bound in the meantime, at Pine Bluff. 
The floods are subsiding up the country, but the 
waters are raging down here. Flint River is out of 
its banks, the low grounds are overflowed, and the 
backwater has formed a lake between the negro 
quarter and the house, that reaches to within a few 
yards of the door. So much the better for us, as Kil- 
patrick and his raiders can never make their way 
through all these floods. 

Sister is greatly troubled about a difficulty two of 
her negroes, Jimboy and Alfred, have gotten into. 
They are implicated with some others who are accused 
of steahng leather and attacking a white man. Alfred 
is a great, big, horrid-looking creature, more like an 
orang-outang than a man, though they say he is one 
of the most peaceable and humble negroes on the 
plantation, and Jimboy has never been known to get 
into any mischief before. I hope there is some mis- 
take, though the negroes are getting very unruly since 
the Yankees are so near. 

Jan. 17, Tuesday. — The river still rising and all the 
water-courses so high that I am afraid the stage won't 
be able to pass between Albany and Thomasville, and 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 71 

we sha'n't get our mail. There is always something 
the matter to keep us from getting the mail at that 
little Gum Pond postoffice. Mrs. Sims is water-bound 
with us, and it is funny to hear her and Mrs. Meals, 
one a red-hot Episcopalian, the other a red-hot Bap- 
tist, trying to convert each other. If the weather is 
any sign, Providence would seem to favor the Baptists 
just now. 

Mrs. Sims almost made me cry with her account of 
poor Mary Millen — her brother dead, their property 
destroyed; it is the same sad story over again that we 
hear so much of. This dreadful war is bringing ruin 
upon so many happy homes. 

Jan. 19, Thursday. — I suffered a great disappoint- 
ment to-day. Mrs. Stokes Walton gave a big dining 
— everybody in the neighborhood, almost everybody 
in the county that is anybody was invited. I expected 
to wear that beautiful new dress that ran the blockade 
and I have had so few opportunities of showing. All 
my preparations were made, even the bows of ribbon 
pinned on my undersleeves, but I was awakened at 
daylight by the pattering of rain on the roof, and 
knew that the fun was up for me. It was out of the 
question for one just up from an attack of measles to 
risk a ride of twelve miles in such a pouring rain, so 
I had to content myself to stay at home with the two 
old ladies and be edified with disquisitions on the 
Apostolic Succession and Baptism by Immersion. 
They are both good enough to be translated, and I 



72 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

can't see why the dear little souls should be so dis- 
turbed about each other's belief. Once, when Mrs. 
Meals left the room for some purpose, Mrs. Sims 
whispered to me confidentially : *' There is so little 
gentility among these dissenters — that is one reason 
why I hate to see her among them." I could hardly 
keep from laughing out, but that is what a good deal 
of our religious differences amount to. I confess to 
a strong prejudice myself, in favor of the old church 
in which I was brought up; still I don't think there 
ought to be any distinction of classes or races in re- 
ligion. We all have too little " gentility " in the sight 
of God for that. I only wish I stood as well in the 
recording Angel's book as many a poor negro that I 
know. 

About noon a cavalryman stopped at the door and 
asked for dinner. As we eat late, and the man was 
in too big a hurry to wait, sister sent him a cold lunch 
out in the entry. It was raining very hard, and the 
poor fellow was thoroughly drenched, so after he had 
eaten, sister invited him to come into the parlor and 
dry himself. It came out, in the course of conversa- 
tion, that he was from our own part of Georgia, and 
knew a number of good old Wilkes County families. 
He was on his way to the Altamaha, he said, and 
promised to do his best to keep the raiders from get- 
ting to us. 

Jan. 21, Saturday. Albany, Ga. — I never in all my 
life knew such furious rains as we had last night; it 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 73 

seemed as if the heavens themselves were falling upon 
us. In addition to the uproar among the elements, 
my slumbers were disturbed by frightful dreams about 
Garnett. Twice during the night I dreamed that he 
was dead and in a state of corruption, and I couldn't 
get anybody to bury him. Col. Avery and Capt. 
Mackall were somehow mixed up in the horrid vision, 
trying to help me, but powerless to do so. In the 
morning, when we waked, I found that Metta also 
had dreamed of Garnett's death. I am not supersti- 
tious, but I can't help feeling more anxious than usual 
to hear news of my darling brother. 

The rain held up about dinner time and Mrs. Sims 
determined to return to Albany, in spite of high waters 
and the threatening aspect of the sky. We went five 
miles out of our way to find a place where we could 
ford Wright's Creek, and even there the water was 
almost swimming. Mett and I were frightened out 
of our wits, but Mrs. Sims told us to shut our eyes 
and trust to Providence, — and Providence and Uncle 
Aby between them brought us through in safety. At 
some places in the woods, sheets of water full half a 
mile wide and from one to two feet deep were running 
across the road, on their way to swell the flood in 
Flint River. Sister sent a negro before us on a mule 
to see if the water-courses were passable. We had 
several bad scares, but reached town in safety a little 
after dark. 

Jan, 22. — The rains returned with double fury in 



74 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the night and continued all day. If "the stars in 
their courses fought against Sisera," it looks as if 
the heavens were doing as much for us against Kil- 
patrick and his raiders. There was no service at St. 
Paul's, so Mrs. Sims kept Metta and me in the line of 
duty by reading aloud High Church books to us. They 
were very dull, so I didn't hurt myself listening. After 
dinner we read the Church service and sang hymns 
until relieved by a call from our old friend, Capt. 
Hobbs. 

Jan. 24, Tuesday. — Mr. and Mrs. Welsh spent the 
evening with us. Jim Chiles came last night and sat 
until the chickens crowed for day. Although I like 
Jimmy and enjoy his budget of news, I would enjoy 
his visits more if he knew when to go away. I never 
was so tired and sleepy in my life, and cold, too, for 
we had let the fire go out as a hint. When at last we 
went to our room I nearly died laughing at the way 
Metta had maneuvered to save time. She had loos- 
ened every button and string that she could get at with- 
out being seen, while sitting in the parlor, and had 
now only to give herself a good shake and she was 
ready for bed. 

We spent the morning making calls with Mrs. Sims, 
and found among the refugees from South Carolina 
a charming old lady, Mrs. Brisbane. Though past 
fifty, she is prettier than many a woman of half her 
years, and her manners would grace a court. Her 
father was an artist of note, and she showed us some 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 75 

beautiful pictures painted by him. After dinner we 
enjoyed some Florida oranges sent by Clinton Spen- 
ser, and they tasted very good, in the absence of West 
India fruits. 

Jan, 25, Wednesday. — Dined at Judge Vason's, 
where there was a large company. He is very hospi- 
table and his house is always full of people. Albert 
Bacon came in from Gum Pond and called in the after- 
noon, bringing letters, and the letters brought permis- 
sion to remain in South- West Georgia as long as we 
please, the panic about Kilpatrick having died out. 
I would like to be at home now, if the journey were 
not such a hard one. Garnett and Mrs. Elzey are 
both there, and Mary Day is constantly expected. I 
have not seen Garnett for nearly three years. He has 
resigned his position on Gen. Gardiner's staff, and is 
going to take command of a battalion of " galvanized 
Yankees," with the rank of Lieutenant-Colonel. I 
don't like the scheme. I have no faith in Yankees of 
any sort, especially these miserable turncoats that are 
ready to sell themselves to either side. There isn't 
gold enough in existence to galvanize one of them 
into a respectable Confederate. 

Jan. 27, Friday. — Mett and I were busy returning 
calls all the morning, and Mrs. Sims, always in a 
hurry, sent us up to dress for Mrs. Westmoreland's 
party as soon as we had swallowed our dinner, so we 
were ready by dusk and had to sit waiting with our 
precious finery on until our escorts came for us at nine 



J 



76 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

o'clock. Mrs. Sims is one of these fidgety little bodies 
that is always in a rush about everything. She gal- 
lops through the responses in church so fast that she 
always comes out long ahead of everybody else, and 
even eats so fast that Metta and I nearly choke our- 
selves trying to keep up with her. We hardly ever 
get enough, as we are ashamed to sit at table too long 
after she has finished. I tried one day, when I was 
very hungry, to keep up with her in eating a wafile, 
but before I had got mine well buttered, hers was 
gone. She is such a nice housekeeper, too, and has 
such awfully good things that it is tantaHzing not to be 
able to take time to enjoy them. 

The party was delightful. Albany is so full of 
charming refugees and Confederate officers and their 
families that there is always plenty of good company, 
whatever else may be lacking. I danced three sets 
with Joe Godfrey, but I don't like the square dances 
very much. The Prince Imperial is too slow and 
stately, and so complicated that the men never know 
what to do with themselves. Even the Lancers are 
tame in comparison with a waltz or a galop. I love 
the galop and the Deux Temps better than any. We 
kept it up till two o'clock in the morning, and then 
walked home. 

While going our rounds in the morning, we found 
a very important person in Peter Louis, a paroled 
Yankee prisoner, in the employ of Capt. Bonham. 
The captain keeps him out of the stockade, feeds and 

■I 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL n 

clothes him, and in return, reaps the benefit of his 
skill. Peter is a French Yankee,* a shoemaker by 
trade, and makes as beautiful shoes as I ever saw 
imported from France. My heart quite softened to- 
wards him when I saw his handiwork, and little Mrs. 
Sims was so overcome that she gave him a huge slice 
of her Confederate fruit cake. I talked French with 
him, which pleased him greatly, and Mett and I en- 
gaged him to make us each a pair of shoes. I will 
feel hke a lady once more, with good shoes on my feet. 
I expect the poor Yank is glad to get away from An- 
derson on any terms. Although matters have im- 
proved somewhat with the cool weather, the tales that 
are told of the condition of things there last summer 
are appalling. Mrs. Brisbane heard all about it from 
Father Hamilton, a Roman Catholic priest from 
Macon, who has been working like a good Samaritan 
in those dens of filth and misery. It is a shame to 
us Protestants that we have let a Roman Catholic get 
so far ahead of us in this work of charity and mercy. 
Mrs. Brisbane says Father Hamilton told her that 
during the summer the wretched prisoners burrowed 
in the ground like moles to protect themselves from 
the sun. It was not safe to give them material to 
build shanties as they might use it for clubs to over- 

* Everybody that fought in the Union army was classed by us 
as a Yankee, whether Southern Union men, foreigners, or negroes ; 
hence the expressions " Irish Yankee," " Dutch Yankee," " black 
Yankee," etc., in contradistinction to the Simon-pure native prod- 
uct, " the Yankee "par excellence. 



78 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

come the guard. These underground huts, he said, 
were alive with vermin and stank like charnel houses. 
Many of the prisoners were stark naked, having not 
so much as a shirt to their backs. He told a pitiful 
story of a Pole who had no garment but a shirt, and 
to make it cover him the better, he put his legs into 
the sleeves and tied the tail round his neck. The 
others guyed him so on his appearance, and the poor 
wretch was so disheartened by suffering, that one day 
he deliberately stepped over the deadline and stood 
there till the guard was forced to shoot him. But 
what I can't understand is that a Pole, of all people 
in the world, should come over here and try to take 
away our liberty when his own country is in the hands 
of oppressors. One would think that the Poles, of 
all nations in the world, ought to sympathize with a 
people fighting for their liberties. Father Hamilton 
said that at one time the prisoners died at the rate 
of 150 a day, and he saw some of them die on the 
ground without a rag to lie on or a garment to cover 
them. Dysentery was the most fatal disease, and as 
they lay on the ground in their own excrements, the 
smell was so horrible that the good father says he was 
often obliged to rush from their presence to get a 
breath of pure air. It is dreadful. My heart aches 
for the poor wretches, Yankees though they are, and 
I am afraid God will suffer some terrible retribution 
to fall upon us for letting such things happen. If the 
Yankees ever should come to South-West Georgia, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 79 

and go to Anderson and see the graves there, God 
have mercy on the land! And yet, what can v^e do? 
The Yankees themselves are really more to blame than 
we, for they won't exchange these prisoners, and our 
poor, hard-pressed Confederacy has not the means to 
provide for them, when our own soldiers are starving 
in the field. Oh, what a horrible thing war is when 
stripped of all its '' pomp and circumstance " ! 

Jan. 28, Saturday. — We left Albany at an early 
hour. Albert Bacon rode out home in the carriage 
with us, and I did the best I could for him by pretend- 
ing to be too sleepy to talk and so leaving him free to 
devote himself to Mett. Fortunately, the roads have 
improved since last Saturday, and we were not so 
long on the way. We found sister busy with prepa- 
rations for Julia's birthday party, which came off in 
the afternoon. All the children in the neighborhood 
were invited and most of the grown people, too. The 
youngsters were turned loose in the backyard to play 
King's Base, Miley Bright, &c., and before we knew it, 
we grown people found ourselves as deep in the fun 
as the children. In the midst of it all a servant came 
up on horseback with a letter for sister. It proved to 
be a note from Capt. Hines bespeaking her hospitality 
for Gen. Sam Jones and staff, and of course she 
couldn't refuse, though the house was crowded to 
overflowing already. She had hardly finished read- 
ing when a whole cavalcade of horses and government 
wagons came rattling up to the door, and the general 



8o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

t 
and one of his aides helped two ladies and their chil- 
dren to alight from an ambulance in which they were 
traveling. When they saw what a party we had on 
hand, they seemed a little embarrassed, but sister 
laughed away their fears, and sent the children out to 
join the others in the backyard and left the ladies, who 
were introduced as Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Creighton, 
with their escorts, in the parlor, while she went out 
to give orders about supper and make arrangements 
for their accommodation. Mrs. Meals, Metta, and I 
hustled out of our rooms and doubled up with sister 
and the children. Everybody was stowed away some- 
where, when, just before bedtime, two more aides, 
Capt. Warwick, of Richmond, and Capt. Frazer, of 
Charleston, rode up and were invited to come in, 
though the house was so crowded that sister had not 
even a pallet on the floor to offer them. All she could 
do was to give them some pillows and tell them they 
were welcome to stay in the parlor if they could make 
themselves comfortable there. People are used to 
putting up with any sort of accommodations these 
times and they seemed very glad of the shelter. They 
said it was a great deal better than camping out in the 
wagons, as they had been doing, and with the help of 
the parlor rugs and their overcoats and army blankets, 
they could make themselves very comfortable. They 
were regular thoroughbreds, we could see, and Capt. 
Frazer one of the handsomest men I ever laid my 
eyes on — a great, big, splendid, fair-haired giant. 




From an old 

Name unknown S 



A GROUP OF CONFEDERATE CHILDREN 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 8i 

that might have been a Viking leader if he had lived 
a thousand years ago. 

Sister has been so put out by Mr. Ballou that I don't 
see how she could keep her temper well enough to be 
polite to anybody. He has packed up and taken him- 
self off, leaving her without an overseer, after giving 
but one day's notice, and she has the whole responsi- 
bility of the plantation and all these negroes on her 
hands. It was disgraceful for him to treat her so, 
and Brother Troup off at the war, too. 

Jan. 29, Sunday. — Breakfast early so as to let our 
general and staff proceed on their way, as they said 
they wanted to make an early start. Gen. Jones has 
recently been appointed commandant of the Depart- 
ment of South Georgia and Florida, with head- 
quarters at Tallahassee. It was nearly eleven o'clock 
before they got off. Mr. Robert Bacon says he met 
them on their way, and they told him they were so 
pleased with their entertainment at sister's that they 
wished they could have staid a day or two longer. I 
had a good long talk vyith the two young captains be- 
fore they left and they were just as nice as they could 
be. We found that we had a number of common 
friends, and Capt. Warwick knows quite well the Miss 
Lou Randolph in Richmond that Garnett writes so 
much about, and Rosalie Beirne,* too. 

Just before bedtime we were startled by heavy steps 
and a loud knocking at the front door. Having no 

* This lady my brother afterwards married. 



82 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

white man within three miles, not even an overseer, 
we were a little startled, but mustered courage, sister, 
Mett, and I, followed by two or three of the negroes, 
to go to the door. Instead of a stray Yankee, or a 
squad of deserters, we confronted a smart young Con- 
federate officer in such a fine new uniform that the 
sight of it nearly took our breath away. He said he 
was going to the Cochran plantation, but got lost in 
the pond back of our house and had come in to inquire 
his way. Sister invited him into the sitting-room, 
and he sat there talking with us till one of the servants 
could saddle a mule and go with him to show him the 
road. Sister said she felt mean for not inviting him 
to spend the night, but she was too tired and worried 
to entertain another guest now, if the fate of the Con- 
federacy depended on it. His uniform was too fresh 
and new anyway to look very heroic. 

Jan. 31, Tuesday. — Sister and I spent the morning 
making calls. At the tithing agent's office, where she 
stopped to see about her taxes, we saw a battalion of 
Wheeler's cavalry, which is to be encamped in our 
neighborhood for several weeks. Their business is to 
gather up and take care of broken-down horses, so as 
to fit them for use again in baggage trains and the 
like. At the postoffice a letter was given me, which 
I opened and read, thinking it was for me. It began 
" Dear Ideal " and was signed " Yours forever." I 
thought at first that Capt. Hobbs or Albert Bacon was 
playing a joke on me, but on making inquiry at the 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 83 

office, I learned that there is a cracker girl named 
Fanny Andrews living down somewhere near Gum 
Pond, for whom, no doubt, the letter was intended; 
so I remailed it to her. 

As we were sitting in the parlor after supper, there 
was another lumbering noise of heavy feet on the 
front steps, but it was caused by a very different sort 
of visitor from the one we had Sunday night. A 
poor, cadaverous fellow came limping into the room, 
and said he was a wounded soldier, looking for work 
as an overseer. He gave his name as Etheridge, and 
I suspect, from his manner, that he is some poor fellow 
who has seen better days. Sister engaged him on the 
spot, for one month, as an experiment, though she is 
afraid he will not be equal to the work. 

Feb. 2, Thursday. — We spent the evening at Maj. 
Edwin Bacon's, rehearsing for tableaux and theatri- 
cals, and I never enjoyed an evening more. We had 
no end of fun, and a splendid supper, with ice cream 
and sherbet and cake made of real white sugar. I 
like the programme, too, and my part in it, though I 
made some of the others mad by my flat refusal to 
make myself ridiculous by taking the part of the peri 
in a scene from Lalla Rookh. Imagine poor little 
ugly me setting up for a peri ! Wouldn't people laugh ! 
I must have parts with some acting; I can't run on my 
looks. The entertainment is to take place at sister's, 
and all the neighborhood and a number of people from 
Albany will be invited. The stage will be erected in 



84 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the wide back entry, between sister's room and the 
dining-room, which will ser\^e for dressing-rooms. 
After the rehearsal came a display of costumes and 
a busy devising of dresses, which interested me very 
much. I do love pretty clothes, and it has been my 
fate to live in these hard war times, when one can 
have so little. 

Feb. 4, Saturday. — We met in the schoolhouse at 
Mt. Enon to rehearse our parts, but everybody seemed 
out of sorts and I never spent a more disagreeable two 
hours. Mett wouldn't act the peri because she had 
had a quarrel with her penitent, and Miss Lou Bacon 
said she couldn't take the part of Esther before Ahas- 
uerus unless she could wear white kid gloves, because 
she had burnt one of her fingers pulling candy, and a 
sore finger would spoil the looks of her hand. Think 
of Esther touching the golden scepter with a pair of 
modern white kid gloves on! It would be as bad as 
me for a peri. Mett and Miss Lou are our beauties, 
and if they fail us, the whole thing falls through. 

Feb. 5, Sunday. — Went to church at Mt. Enon, and 
did my best to listen to Dr. Hillyer, but there were so 
many troops passing along the road that I could keep 
neither my thoughts nor my eyes from wandering. 
Jim Chiles came home to dinner with us. He always 
has so much news to tell that he is as good as the 
county paper, and much more reliable. I have a letter 
from Lily Legriel * asking me to make her a visit 
* A school friend of the writer. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 85 

before I go home. She is refugeeing in Macon, and 
I think I will stop a few days as I pass through. 

Feh. 9, Thursday. — We are in Albany — Mett, Mrs. 
Meals, and I — on our way to Americus, where I am 
going to consult Cousin Boiling Pope about my eyes. 
They have been troubling me ever since I had measles. 
We had hardly got our hats off when Jim Chiles came 
panting up the steps. He had seen the carriage pass 
through town and must run round at once to see if a 
sudden notion had struck us to go home. After tea 
came Capt. Hobbs, the Welshes, and a Mr. Green, of 
Columbus, to spend the evening. Mrs. Welsh gives 
a large party next Thursday night, to which we are 
invited, and she also wants me to stay over and take 
part in some theatricals for the benefit of the hospi- 
tals, but I have had enough of worrying with amateur 
theatricals for the present. 

Feb. 10, Friday. — We had to get up very early to 
catch the seven o'clock train to Americus. Jim met 
us at the depot, though there were so many of our 
acquaintances on board that we had no special need 
of an escort. Mr. George Lawton sat by me all the 
way from Smithville to Americus, and insisted on our 
paying his family a visit before leaving South- West 
Georgia. I wish I could go, for he lives near father's 
old Tallassee plantation where I had such happy times 
in my childhood; but if we were to accept all the in- 
vitations that come to us, we would never get back 
home again. We reached Americus at ten and went 



86 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

straight to Cousin Boiling's hospital. He was not 
there, but Dr. Howard, his assistant, told us he was 
in the village and would be at the office in a few min- 
utes. All along the streets, as we were making our 
way from the depot to the hospital, we could recognize 
his patients going about with patches and shades and 
blue spectacles over their eyes, and some of them had 
blue or green veils on. We didn't care to wait at the 
hospital in all that crowd of men, so we started out to 
visit the shops, intending to return later and meet 
Cousin Boiling. We had gone only a few steps when 
we saw him coming toward us. His first words were 
the announcement that he was married! I couldn't 
believe him at first, and thought he was joking. Then 
he insisted that we should go home with him and see 
our new cousin. We felt doubtful about displaying 
our patched up Confederate traveling suits before a 
brand new bride from beyond the blockade, with trunk 
loads of new things, but curiosity got the better of us, 
and so we agreed to go home with him. He is occupy- 
ing Col. Maxwell's house while the family are on the 
plantation in Lee county. When we reached the 
house with Cousin Boiling, Mrs. Pope — or " Cousin 
Bessie," as she says we must call her now, made us 
feel easy by sending for us to come to her bedroom, as 
there was no fire in the parlor, and she would not 
make company of us. She was a Mrs. Ayres, before 
her marriage to Cousin Boiling, a young widow from 
Memphis, Tenn., and very prominent in society there. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 87 

She is quite handsome, and, having just come from 
beyond the lines, her beautiful dresses were a revela- 
tion to us dowdy Confederates, and made me feel like 
a plucked peacock. Her hair was arranged in three 
rolls over the top of the head, on each side of the part, 
in the style called " cats, rats, and mice," on account 
of the different size of the rolls, the top one being the 
largest. It was very stylish. I wish my hair was 
long enough to dress that way, for I am getting very 
tired of frizzes; they are so much trouble, and always 
will come out in wet weather. We were so much inter- 
ested that we stayed at Cousin Boiling's too long and 
had to run nearly all the way back to the depot in order 
to catch our train. On the cars I met the very last man 
I would have expected to see in this part of the world 
— my Boston friend, Mr. Adams. He said he was on 
his way to take charge of a Presbyterian church in 
Eufaula, Ala. He had on a broadcloth coat and a 
stovepipe hat, which are so unlike anything worn by 
our Confederate men that I felt uncomfortably con- 
spicuous while he was with me. I am almost ashamed, 
nowadays, to be seen with any man not in uniform, 
though Mr. Adams, being a Northern man and a min- 
ister, could not, of course, be expected to go into the 
army. I believe he is sincere in his Southern sympa- 
thies, but his Yankee manners and lingo " sorter riles " 
me, as the darkies say, in spite of reason and common 
sense. He talked religion all the way to Smithville, 
and parted with some pretty sentiment about the 



88 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

*' sunbeam I had thrown across his path." I don't 
enjoy that sort of talk from men; I like dash and flash 
and fire in talk, as in action. 

We reached Albany at four o'clock, and after a 
little visit to Mrs. Sims, started home, where we ar- 
rived soon after dark, without any adventure except 
being nearly drowned in the ford at Wright's Creek. 

Feb. 1 1, Saturday. — Making visits all day. It takes 
a long time to return calls when people live so far 
apart and every mile or two we have to go out of our 
way to avoid high waters. Stokes Walton's creek 
runs underground for several miles, so that when the 
waters are high we leave the main road and cross 
where it disappears underground. There is so much 
water now that the subterranean channel can't hold it 
all, so it flows below and overflows above ground, 
making a two-storied stream. It is very broad and 
shallow at that place, and beautifully clear. It would 
be a charming place for a boating excursion because 
the water is not deep enough to drown anybody if they 
should fall overboard — but if the bottom should drop 
out of the road, as sometimes happens in this lime- 
stone country, where in the name of heaven would 
we go to? 

Sister and I spent the evening at Mrs. Robert 
Bacon's. The Camps, the Edwin Bacons, Capt. 
Wynne, and Mrs. Westmoreland were there. We en- 
joyed ourselves so much that we didn't break up till 
one o'clock Sunday morning. Mrs. Westmoreland 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 89 

says she gave Capt. Sailes a letter of introduction to 
me, thinking I had gone back to Washington. He 
and John Garnett, one of our far-off Virginia cousins, 
have been transferred there. 

Feb. 12, Sunday. — Spring is already breaking in 
this heavenly climate, and the weather has been lovely 
to-day. The yellow jessamine buds begin to show 
their golden tips, forget-me-nots are peeping from 
under the wire grass, and the old cherry tree by the 
dairy is full of green leaves. Spring is so beautiful; I 
don't wonder the spring poet breaks loose then. Our 
'' piney woods " don't enjoy a very poetical reputation, 
but at this season they are the most beautiful place in 
the world to me. 

I went over to the quarter after dinner, to the 
'* Praise House," to hear the negroes sing, but most 
of them had gone to walk on the river bank, so I did 
not get a full choir. At their " praise meetings " they 
go through with all sorts of motions in connection 
with their songs, but they won't give way to their 
wildest gesticulations or engage in their sacred dances 
before white people, for fear of being laughed at. 
They didn't get out of their seats while I was there, 
but whenever the " sperrit " of the song moved them 
very much, would pat their feet and flap their arms 
and go through with a number of motions that re- 
minded me of the game of " Old Dame Wiggins " that 
we used to play when we were children. They call 
these native airs " little speritual songs," in contradis- 



90 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

tinction to the hymns that the preachers read to them 
in church, out of a book, and seem to enjoy them a 
great deal more. One of them has a quick, lively 
melody, which they sing to a string of words Hke 
these : 

" Mary an' Marthy, feed my lambs, 
Feed my lambs, feed my lambs; 
Mary an' Marthy, feed my lambs, 
Settin' on de golden altar. 
I weep, I moan ; what mek I moan so slow ? 
I won'er ef a Zion traveler have gone along befo'. 
Mary an' Marthy, feed my lambs," etc. 



' Paul de 'postle, feed my lambs, 
Feed my Iambs, feed my lambs. . . 



and so on, through as many Bible names as they could 
think of. Another of their " sperrituals " runs on 
this wise: 

" I meet my soul at de bar of God, 
I heerd a mighty lumber. 
Hit was my sin fell down to hell 
Jes' like a clap er thunder. 
Mary she come runnin' by. 
Tell how she weep an' wonder. 
Mary washin' up Jesus' feet, 
De angel walkin' up de golden street. 
Run home, believer; oh, run home, believer! 
Run home, believer, run home." 

Another one, sung to a kind of chant, begins this way : 

" King Jesus he tell you 
Fur to fetch 'im a boss an' a mule ; 
He tek up Mary behine 'im, 
King Jesus he went marchin' befo'. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 9^ 

Chorus.— 

" Christ was born on Chris'mus day ; 
Mary was in pain. 
Christ was born on Chris'mus day, 
King Jesus was his name." 

The chorus to another of their songs is: 

" I knowed it was a angel, 
I knowed it by de groanin'." 

I mean to make a collection of these songs some 
day and keep them as a curiosity. The words are 
mostly endless repetitions, with a wild jumble of mis- 
fit Scriptural allusions, but the tunes are inspiring. 
They are mostly a sort of weird chant that makes 
me feel all out of myself when I hear it way in the 
night, too far off to catch the words. I wish I was 
musician enough to write down the melodies; they 
are worth preserving. 

Feb. 13, Monday. — Letters from home. Our house 
is full of company, as it always is, only more so. All 
the Morgans are there, and Mary Day, and the Gaird- 
ners from Augusta, besides a host of what one might 
call transients, if father was keeping a hotel — friends, 
acquaintances, and strangers whom the tide of war 
has stranded in little Washington. Mrs. Gairdner's 
husband was an officer in the English army at Water- 
loo, and a schoolmate of Lord Byron, and her sons 
are brave Confederates — which is better than any- 
thing else. Mary Day had typhoid fever in Augusta. 
She is too weak to make the journey from Mayfield 



92 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

to Macon, and all non-combatants have been ordered 
to leave Augusta, so mother invited her to Haywood. 
Oh, that dear old home! I know it is sweeter than 
ever now, with all those delightful people gathered 
there. One good thing the war has done among 
many evils; it has brought us into contact with so 
many pleasant people we should never have known 
otherwise. I know it must be charming to have all 
those nice army officers around, and I do want to go 
back, but it is so nice here, too, that we have decided 
to stay a little longer. Father says that this is the 
best place for us now that Kilpatrick's raiders are out 
of the way. I wish I could be in both places at once. 
They write us that little Washington has gotten to be 
the great thoroughfare of the Confederacy now, since 
Sherman has cut the South Carolina R.R. and the only 
line of communication between Virginia and this part 
of the country, from which the army draws its sup- 
plies, is through there and Abbeville. This was the 
old stage route before there were any railroads, and 
our first " rebel " president traveled over it in return- 
ing from his Southern tour nearly three-quarters of a 
century ago, when he spent a night with Col. Alison 
in Washington. It was a different thing being a 
rebel in those days and now. I wonder the Yankees 
don't remember they were rebels once, themselves. 

Mrs. Meals asked me to go with her in the after- 
noon to visit some of the cracker people in our neigh- 
borhood and try to collect their children into a Sunday 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 93 

school which the dear, pious little soul proposes to 
open at Pine Bluff after the manner of Hannah More. 
At one place, where the parents were away from home, 
the children ran away from us in a fright, and hid 
behind their cabin. I went after them, and capturing 
one little boy, soon made friends with him, and got 
him to bring the others to me. I was surprised to 
find the wife of our nearest cracker neighbor, who 
lives just beyond the lime sink, in a cabin that Brother 
Troup wouldn't put one of his negroes into, a remark- 
ably handsome woman, in spite of the dirt and igno- 
rance in which she lives. Her features are as regular 
and delicate as those of a Grecian statue, and her hair 
of a rich old mahogany color that I suppose an artist 
would call Titian red. It was so abundant that she could 
hardly keep it tucked up on her head. She was dirty 
and unkempt, and her clothing hardly met the require- 
ments of decency, but all that could not conceal her 
uncommon beauty. I would give half I am worth for 
her flashing black eyes. We found that her oldest 
child is thirteen years old, and has never been inside 
a church, though Mt. Enon is only three miles away. 
I can't understand what makes these people live so. 
The father owns 600 acres of good pine land, and if 
there was anything in him, ought to make a good 
living for his family. 

After supper we amused ourselves getting up valen- 
tines. Everybody in the neighborhood has agreed to 
send one to Jim Chiles, so he will get a cartload of 



94 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

them. I made up seven stanzas of absurd trash to 
Capt. Hobbs, every one ending with a rhyme on his 
name, the last being : 

" Oh, how my heart bobs 
At the very name of Richard Hobbs. " 

Feb. 1 6, Thursday. — We started for Albany for 
Mrs. Welsh's party, soon after breakfast, but were a 
good deal delayed on the way by having to wait for 
a train of forty government wagons to pass. We 
found Mrs. Julia Butler at Mrs. Sims's, straight from 
Washington, with letters for us, and plenty of news. 
I feel anxious to get back now, since Washington is 
going to be such a center of interest. If the Yanks 
take Augusta, it will become the headquarters of the 
department. Mrs. Butler says a train of 300 wagons 
runs between there and Abbeville, and they are sur- 
veying a railroad route. Several regiments are sta- 
tioned there and the town is alive with army officers 
and government officials. How strange all this seems 
for dear, quiet little Washington ! It must be delight- 
ful there, with all those nice army officers. I am 
going back home as soon as I can decently change my 
mind. I have been at the rear all during the war, 
and now that I have a chance, I want to go to the 
front. I wish I could be here and there, too, at the 
same time. 

We were fairly besieged with visitors till time to 
dress for the party. Miss Pyncheon dined with us. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 95 

and Gardiner Montgomery is staying in the house, and 
I can't tell how many other people dropped in. It 
was all perfectly delightful. Capt. Hobbs and Dr. 
Pyncheon offered themselves as escorts, but we had 
already made engagements with Albert Bacon and 
Jim Chiles. We gave Miss Pyncheon and Dr. Sloane 
seats in our carriage, and we six cliqued together a 
good deal during the evening, and had a fine time of it. 
I never did enjoy a party more and never had less to 
say about one. I had not a single adventure during 
the entire evening. Metta was the belle, par excel- 
lence, but Miss Pyncheon and I were not very far be- 
hind, and I think I was ahead of them all in my dress. 
Miss Pyncheon wore a white puffed tarleton, with 
pearls and white flowers. The dress, though beauti- 
ful, was not becoming because the one fault of her 
fine, aristocratic face is want of color. A little rouge 
and sepia would improve her greatly, if a nice girl 
could make up her mind to use them. Mett wore 
white Suisse with festoon flounces, over my old blue 
Florence silk skirt, the flounces, like charity, covering 
a multitude of faults. She was a long way the pretti- 
est one in the room, though her hair is too short to be 
done up stylishly. But my dress was a masterpiece 
[sic!] though patched up, like everybody else's, out 
of old finery that would have been cast off years ago, 
but for the blockade. I wore a white barred organdy 
with a black lace flounce round the bottom that com- 
pletely hid the rents made at dances in Montgomery 



96 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

last winter, and a wide black lace bow and ends in 
the back, to match the flounce. Handsome lace will 
make almost anything look respectable, and I thank 
my stars there was a good deal of it in the family 
before the Yankees shut us off by their horrid block- 
ade. My waist was of light puffed blonde, very fluffy, 
made out of the skirt I wore at Henry's wedding, and 
trimmed round the neck and sleeves with ruchings 
edged with narrow black lace. My hair was frizzed 
in front, with a cluster of white hyacinths surmount- 
ing the top row of curls, and a beautifully embroidered 
butterfly Aunt Sallie had made for me half -hidden 
among them, as if seeking its way to the flowers. My 
train was very long, but I pinned it up like a tunic, 
over a billowy flounced muslin petticoat, while danc- 
ing. My toilet was very much admired, and I had a 
great rnany compliments about it and everybody turned 
to look at it as I passed, which put me in good spirits. 
We danced eighteen sets, and I was on the floor every 
time, besides all the round dances, and between times 
there were always three or four around talking to me. 
Mett says it counts a great deal more to have one 
very devoted at a time, but that keeps the others away, 
and I think it is much nicer to have a crowd around 
you all the time. One man grows tiresome unless you 
expect to marry him, and I am never going to marry 
anybody. Marriage is incompatible with the career I 
have marked out for myself, but I want to have all 
the fun I can before I am too old. . . . Among others 




A BELLE OF THE CONFEDERACV IN EVENING DRESS 

JOSEPHINE CHESTNEY, RICHMOND, VA., 1863 

(Mrs. Josephine C. Butler) 



--1 ,,^.v-^-^:^: 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 97 

I met my old acquaintance, Mr. Draper, who was one 
of the attendants at Henry's wedding. He says I 
have changed a great deal, and look just like Mett did 
then. I suppose I may take this as a double-barreled 
compliment, as Metta is the beauty of the family and 
she was then only fifteen, while I am now twenty- four ! 
Oh, how time does fly, and how fast we grow old! 
But there is one comfort when a woman doesn't de- 
pend upon looks; she lasts longer. 

Capt. Hobbs has got his valentine, and everybody 
is laughing about it. They were all so sure it came 
from me that Dr. Conolly and the captain put their 
heads together and wrote a reply that they were going 
to send me, but I threw them off the track so com- 
pletely, that they are now convinced that it came from 
Merrill Callaway. Even Albert Bacon is fooled, and 
it is he that told me all Capt. Hobbs and the others 
said about it, and of their having suspected me. I 
pretended a great deal of curiosity and asked what 
sort of poetry it was. Mr. Bacon then repeated some 
of my own ridiculous rhymes to me. ''It is a capital 
thing," he said, shaking with laughter, " only a little 
hard on Hobbs." 

*'It is just like Merrill," said I; ''but I am sorry 
the captain found out I didn't send it before mailing 
his reply." I am going to tell them better in a few 
days and let them see how royally they have been 
fooled. 

Feb. 17, Friday. — We had expected to bring Miss 



98 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Pyncheon out to Pine Bluff with us, but Mrs. Butler 
had the only vacant seat in the carriage. I felt stupid 
and sleepy all day, for it was after four o'clock in the 
morning when I got home from the party and went 
to bed. I took a walk with the children after dinner, 
to the lime sink back of the newground. The sink is 
half full of water from an overflowed cypress pond 
just this side of Mt. Enon. The water runs in a clear 
stream down a little declivity — something very un- 
common in this flat country — in finding its way to the 
sink, and makes a lovely little waterfall. There is a sub- 
terranean outlet from the sink, for it never overflows 
except in times of unusually heavy rain. It makes a 
diminutive lake, which is full of small fish, and the 
banks are bordered with willow oaks and tall shrubs 
aglow with yellow jessamine. An old man was 
seated on the bank fishing, as we approached, making 
a very pretty picture. 

Feb. 21, Tuesday. — A letter from Mecca Joyner, 
saying she is coming to make me a visit, and I must 
meet her in Albany on Wednesday. Just as I had 
finished reading it a buggy drove up with Flora Max- 
well and Capt. Rust, from Gopher Hill. Flora has a 
great reputation for beauty, but I think her even more 
fascinating and elegant than beautiful. Capt. Rust is 
an exile from Delaware, and a very nice old gentle- 
man, whom the Maxwells think a great deal of. He 
was banished for helping Southern prisoners to escape 
across the lines. He tells me that he sometimes had 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 99 

as many as fourteen rebels concealed in his house at 
one time. 

Albert Bacon called after tea and told us all about 
the Hobbs poetry, and teased me a good deal at first 
by pretending that Capt. Hobbs was very angry. He 
says everybody is talking about it and asking for 
copies. I had no idea of making such a stir by my 
little joke. Metta and I were invited to spend t'his 
week at Stokes Walton's, but company at home pre- 
vented. We are going to have a picnic at the Henry 
Bacons' lake on Thursday, and the week after we 
expect to begin our journey home in good earnest. 
Sister is going to visit Brother Troup in Macon at 
the same time, and a large party from Albany will 
go that far with us. I have so much company and 
so much running about to do that I can't find time for 
anything else. I have scribbled this off while waiting 
for breakfast. 

Feb. 22, Wednesday. — I went to Albany and 
brought Mecca Joyner and Jim Chiles home with me. 
I took dinner with Mrs. Sims and met several friends, 
whom I invited to our picnic. Sister had a large com- 
pany to spend the evening, and they stayed so late 
that I grew very sleepy. I am all upset, anyway, for 
letters from home have come advising us to stay here 
for the present, where there is plenty to eat, and less 
danger from Yankees now, than almost anywhere 
else. It must be perversity, for when I thought I had 
to go home I wanted to stay here, and now that father 



100 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

wants me to stay, I am wild to go. I have written 
him that he had better order me back home, for then 
I would not care so much about going. Now that 
the Yanks have passed by Augusta and are making 
their way to Columbia and Charleston, I hope they 
will give Georgia a rest. 

Feb. 23, Thursday. — The picnic was stupid. It 
must be that I am getting tired of seeing the same 
faces so often. Albert Bacon and Jim Chiles came 
home with us, and we enjoyed the evening. Capt. 
Rust is a dear old fellow, and Miss Connor and Maj. 
Camp added a little variety. Capt. Rust and Mr. 
Bacon proposed a ride across country for the morning, 
but there is not a riding habit in the family, nor a 
piece of cloth big enough to make one. I ruined mine 
in those fox hunts at Chunnenuggee Ridge last fall. 
Flora is a famous horsewoman, and I know she must 
be a good rider, for her every movement is grace 
itself. She is one of those people that gains upon you 
on acquaintance. She is so out of the commonplace. 
There is something stately and a little cold about her 
that reminds me of a beautiful lily, and yet there 
is a fascination about her that attracts everybody. 
All the men that come near her go wild over 
her, and I don't wonder. If I could write a novel, I 
would make her the heroine. She seems to stand on 
a higher plane than we common mortals, without in- 
tending or knowing it. Her simplicity and straight- 
forwardness are her greatest charm. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL loi 

Feb. 26, Sunday. — Flora and the captain have re- 
turned to Gopher Hill, whither Metta, Mecca, and I 
are invited to follow on Friday, when sister goes up 
to Macon. Jimmy Callaway and his father have just 
come from Washington with such glowing accounts 
of the excitement and gayety there that I am dis- 
tracted to go back home. If father don't write for 
us to come soon, I think we will go to Chunnenuggee 
by way of Eufaula and the Chattahoochee, and if 
Thomas's raiders catch us over in Alabama, father 
will wish he had let us come home. 

After dinner I took Mecca over to the Praise House 
to hear the negroes sing. I wish I was an artist so 
that I could draw a picture of the scene. Alfred, one 
of the chief singers, is a gigantic creature, more like 
an ape than a man. I have seen pictures of African 
savages in books of travel that were just like him. His 
hands and feet are so huge that it looks as if their 
weight would crush the heads of the little piccaninnies 
when he pats them; yet, with all this strength, they 
say he is a great coward, and one of the most docile 
negroes on the plantation. The women, when they 
get excited with the singing, shut their eyes and rock 
themselves back and forth, clapping their hands, and 
in the intervals, when not moved by the " sperrit," 
occupy themselves hunting for lice in their children's 
heads. Old Bob and Jim are the preachers, and very 
good old darkies they are, in spite of their religion. 
But the chief personages on the plantation are old 



I02 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Granny Mimey, old Uncle Wally, and Uncle Setley, 
who are all superannuated and privileged characters. 
I tell sister that Uncle Wally has nothing to do, and 
Uncle Setley to help him. The latter is very deaf, 
and half crazy, but harmless. I am a special favorite 
of Uncle Wally's. We have a chat every morning 
when he passes through the back yard on his way to 
the cowpen. The other day he said to me : " You is 
de puttiest lady ever I seed; you looks jes' lack one er 
dese heer alablastered dolls." 

We walked to the bluff on the river bank, after 
leaving the quarter, and sat there a long time talking. 
Spring is here in earnest. The yellow jessamines are 
bursting into bloom, and the air is fragrant with the 
wild crab apples. 

March i, Wednesday. — The weather has been so 
bad that we are thrown upon our own resources for 
amusement. Metta and Mecca play cards and back- 
gammon most of the time, and Albert Bacon comes 
almost every day on some pretense or other. One 
very dark night when he was here, we told ghost 
stories till we frightened ourselves half to death, and 
had to beg him to stay all night to keep the bogies off. 
Mett and I take long tramps in the afternoons through 
mist and mud, but Mec does not like to walk. The 
lime sink is particularly attractive just now. The 
little stream that feeds it is swollen by the rains, and 
dashes along with a great noise. It is so full of little 
fish that one can catch them in the hand, and the swans 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 103 

go there to feed on them. The whole wood is fra- 
grant with yellow jessamines and carpeted with 
flowers. 

Another letter from home that makes me more 
eager than ever to return. Gen. Elzey and staff are 
at our house, and the town is full of people that I 
want to see. 

March 2, Thursday, — We left Pine Bluff at eleven 
o'clock and reached the Blue Spring in time for lunch. 
Albert Bacon and Jimmy Chiles were there to meet us. 
Hang a petticoat on a bean pole and carry it where 
you will, Jimmy will follow. The river is so high 
that its muddy waters have backed up into the spring 
and destroyed its beauty, but we enjoyed the glorious 
flowers that bloom around it, and saw some brilliant 
birds of a kind that were new to me. Mr. Bacon said 
he would kill one and give me to trim my hat. 

March 3, Friday. Gopher Hill. — Up at daybreak, 
and on the train, ready to leave Albany. Albert and 
Jimmy were there, of course, besides a number of 
Albany people who had come to see us off — a great 
compliment at that heathenish hour. We got off at 
Wooten's Station, only twelve miles from Albany. 
Flora and Capt. Rust were there to meet us with 
conveyances for Gopher Hill. It is worth the journey 
from Pine Bluff to Gopher Hill just to travel over 
the road between there and Wooten's. It runs nearly 
all the way through swamps alive with the beauty 
and fragrance of spring. We passed through Starkes- 



104 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

ville and crossed Muckolee Creek at the very spot 
where I had such an adventurous night in my child- 
hood, traveHng in the old stage coach that used to run 
between Macon and Albany. The swamps were over- 
flowed then and we had to cross the creek in a canoe, 
and Cousin Boiling held me in his lap to keep me from 
falling out. On the other side of the creek, towards 
Gopher Hill, we came to an old Indian clearing where 
are some magnificent willow oaks that I recognized 
distinctly, though it is fourteen years since then. 

Gopher Hill is seven miles from the station. It is 
like most plantation houses in this part of the world, 
where they are used only for camping a few weeks in 
winter — or were, before the war — a big, one-storied 
log cabin, or rather, a combination of cabins spread 
out over a full half acre of ground, and even then 
with hardly room enough to accommodate the army 
of guests the family gather about them when they 
go to the country. On each side of the avenue leading 
to the house is a small lake, and about two miles back 
in the plantation, a large one on which Flora has a 
row-boat. She has a beautiful pony named Fleet, that 
is the counterpart of our own dear little Dixie. Col. 
Maxwell has a great many fine horses and all sorts of 
conveyances, which are at the service of his guests. 
He is one of the most aristocratic-looking old gentle- 
men I ever saw. In manners, appearance, and dispo- 
sition, he is strikingly like Brother Troup, except that 
the colonel is very large and commanding, while 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 105 

Brother Troup is small and dapper. He is very hand- 
some — next to Bishop Elliot, one of the finest speci- 
mens of Southern manhood I ever saw. It is one of 
the cases where blood will tell, for he has the best of 
Georgia in his veins, or to go back further, the best 
in old Scotland itself. Though over sixty years old, 
he has never been out of the State, and is as full of 
whims and prejudices as the traditional old country 
squire that we read about in English novels. His 
present wife. Flora's stepmother, is much younger 
than he, very gay and witty, and escapes all worry 
by taking a humorous view of him and his crotchets. 
He and Flora idolize each other, and she is the only 
person that can do anything with him, and not always 
even she, when he once gets his head fast set. 

We had dinner at two o'clock, and afterwards went 
to a country school about two miles away, to hear 
the boys and girls declaim. The schoolmaster made 
so many facetious remarks about the ladies, that I 
asked Flora if he was a widower — ^he seemed too silly 
to be anything else — but she says he has a wife living; 
poor thing. We met Gen. Graves * at the school- 
house and he rode back with us. We took to the 
woods and jumped our horses over every log we came 
to, just to see what he would do. 

March 4, Saturday. — ... I had just finished writ- 
ing some letters when Gen. Graves and Mr. Baldwin t. 

* Father of John Temple Graves, the Georgia orator. 
t This name, for obvious reasons, is fictitious. 



io6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

were announced and I went to the parlor. The gen- 
eral is consumedly in love with Flora, and Mr. Bald- 
win equally so with his bottle, but is nice-looking, and 
when not too far gone, quite agreeable. It is amusing 
to see good old Capt. Rust watching over him and 
trying to keep temptation out of his way. He stole 
the bottle out of his bedroom the first chance he could 
find, but not until the poor fellow had got more of it 
than was good for him. The weather cleared up 
after dinner and we went to Coney Lake, where the 
boat is — Flora and I on horseback, the rest in buggies 
and carriages. It is a beautiful place. Great avenues 
of cypress extend into the shallow waters near the 
shore, where we could fioat about in shady canals and 
gather the curious wild plants that grow there. Huge 
water lilies wnth stems like ropes and leaves as big as 
palm-leaf fans, fioat about in the open spaces, and 
great lotus plants, with their curious funnel-shaped 
pods and umbrella-like leaves, line the shores and 
shallows. The lake is so deep in the center that it 
has never been fathomed, being connected, probably, 
with a lime sink or an underground stream; but its 
waters are clear as crystal, and where they are shallow 
enough to show the bottom, all kinds of curious 
aquatic plants can be seen growing there in the wildest 
luxuriance. I took my first row with Mr. Baldwin, 
and wished myself back on shore before we had made 
twenty strokes. He was just far enough gone to be 
reckless, and frightened me nearly out of my wits by 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 107 

rocking the boat till the gunwales dipped in the 
water, and then tried to pacify me with maudlin talk 
about swimming ashore with me if it should capsize. 
I picked up a paddle and tried to row the boat myself, 
and then he got interested in teaching me, and finally 
we came safe to land. I went out again with Capt. 
Rust, and enjoyed the last trip more than any. We 
were followed by an alligator, and Capt. Rust gathered 
for me some of the curious plants that were floating 
on the water. It was late when we started back to 
the house, and the ride was glorious. Flora and I 
amused ourselves by going through the woods and 
making our horses jump the highest logs we could 
find. Fleet was so full of spirit that I could hardly 
hold him in. 

March 5, Sunday. — One of the loveliest days I ever 
saw. We went to a little Methodist church in Starkes- 
ville, for the pleasure of the drive. 

After dinner we walked to the Bubbling Spring, 
and killed a big snake on the way. The spring is 
down in a gully, and is simply the mouth of a small 
underground stream that comes to the surface there. 
It throws up a kind of black sand that rises on the 
water like smoke from the stack of a steam engine. 
The water under ground makes strange sounds, like 
voices wailing and groaning. Just below the spring 
is a little natural bridge, the most romantic spot I 
have seen in the neighborhood. The rocks that 
border the stream are covered with ferns and brilliaftt'''''^^ 



io8 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

green mosses and liverworts. Palmettoes and bright 
flowering plants grow in the crevices, and the whole 
place is shaded by magnolias, willow oaks and myrtles, 
bound together by gigantic smilax and jessamine vines. 
At several places there are openings in the ground 
through which one can peep and see rapid water flow- 
ing under our feet. This whole country is riddled 
with underground streams. At Palmyra, not far 
from Albany, there is a mill turned by one. The 
stream was discovered by a man digging a well, to 
which an accident happened not uncommon in this 
country — the bottom dropped out. A calf that fell 
into the well and was supposed to be drowned, turned 
up a few days after, sound and safe. His tracks led 
to an opening through which issued water covered 
with foam. A great roaring was heard, which 
further exploration showed to come from a fine sub- 
terranean waterfall. 

March 6, Monday, — After breakfast, we all piled 
into a big plantation wagon and went to see Prairie 
Pond, a great sheet of water covering over 200 acres. 
It has formed there since Col. Maxwell bought the 
Gopher Hill plantation. He says that when he first 
came here there was not a patch of standing water 
as big as his hand on all the acres now covered by 
Prairie Pond, and the great skeletons of dead forest 
trees still standing in the outer edges of the lake show 
that the encroachment of the water is still going on. 
Some years after he came to Gopher Hill, he says, a 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 109 

blue spring on the other side of the plantation, that 
formed the outlet of an underground stream, became 
choked up from some cause, so the waters had no 
escape, and Prairie Pond began to form and has been 
slowly increasing ever since. Near the lake we came 
to two remarkable lime sinks. They are both very 
deep, and as round as drinking cups. One of them is 
covered with a green scum about an inch thick, com- 
posed of scaly plants, like lichens. Underneath this 
scum the water is clear as crystal. The stones all 
around are full of fossil shells, and we found some 
beautiful crystallized limestone that sparkled like 
diamonds. 

We had to leave our wagon several hundred yards 
from the border of the pond and make our explora- 
tions on foot, for want of a wagon road. In return- 
ing we took the wrong direction and went a mile or 
two out of our way, getting very wet feet, and I tore 
my dress so that I looked like a ragamuffin into the 
bargain. When at last we reached home, the servants 
told us that Mr. and Mrs. Warren, with Gen. Graves, 
Mr. Baldwin, and Clint Spenser and Joe Godfrey 
from Albany, had come over to dinner, and not finding 
anybody at home, had set out in search of us. We 
girls scurried to our rooms and had just made our- 
selves respectable when Mr. Baldwin and Mr. Spenser, 
having tired of their wild-goose chase, came back to 
the house. Mecca and I got into the double buggy 
with them and started out to hunt up the rest of the 



no THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

party. After dinner, we went to Coney Lake again. 
I went in the buggy with Joe Godfrey. He and Mr. 
Baldwin each invited me to take a row. I didn't go 
with Mr. Baldwin. 

March 8, Wednesday. — I went up to Americus yes- 
terday, with Flora and Capt. Rust, to see Cousin 
Boiling about my eyes, expecting to return to Gopher 
Hill on the afternoon train, but Cousin Bessie in- 
sisted that we should stay to dinner, and her 
attempt to have it served early was so unsuccessful 
that Capt. Rust and I got to the station just in time 
to see the train moving off without us. Flora had 
another engagement, that caused her to decline Mrs. 
Pope's invitation, so she made the train, but the cap- 
tain and I had nothing for it but to spend the night 
in Americus and kill the time as best we could. I 
was repaid for the annoyance of getting left by the 
favorable report Cousin Boiling gave of my eyes. He 
says it is nothing but the effects of measles that ails 
them, and they are almost well. I occupied Flora's 
room that night. Cousin Bessie lent me one of her 
fine embroidered linen nightgowns, and I was so over- 
powered at having on a decent piece of underclothing 
after the coarse Macon Mills homespun I have 
been wearing for the last two years, that I could 
hardly go to sleep. I stood before the glass and 
looked at myself after I was undressed just to see 
how nice it was to have on a respectable undergarment 
once more. I can stand patched-up dresses, and even 




FROM BEYOND THE BLOCKAUIC 

KATE PIERCY MURPHEY, OF NORFOLK, VA. 

(Mrs. T. O. Chestney) 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL m 

take a pride in wearing Confederate homespun, where 
it is done open and above board, but I can't help feel- 
ing vulgar and common in coarse underclothes. 
Cousin Bessie has brought quantities of beautiful 
things from beyond the blockade, that make us poor 
Rebs look like ragamuffins beside her. She has 
crossed the lines by special permit, and will be obliged 
to return to Memphis by the 2d of April, when her 
pass will be out. It seems funny for a white woman 
to have to get a pass to see her husband, just like the 
negro men here do when their wives live on another 
plantation. The times have brought about some 
strange upturnings. Cousin Boiling is awfully blue 
about the war, and it does begin to look as if our poor 
little Confederacy was about on its last legs, but I am 
so accustomed to all sorts of vicissitudes that I try 
not to let thoughts of the inevitable disturb me. The 
time to be blue was five years ago, before we went into 
it. Before breakfast this morning I went out to 
make the acquaintance of Col. Maxwell's old mammy, 
Aunt Lizzie. She lives in a pretty little cottage on a 
corner of the lot, and is more petted and spoiled than 
any of his children. The day Cousin Boiling was 
first expected in Americus with his bride, Flora went 
to town to put the house in order for them, and asked 
Aunt Lizzie to cook dinner for the newly married pair. 
'* What you talkin' 'bout, chile ? " was the answer. 
" I wouldn't cook fur Jesus Christ to-day, let alone 
Dr. Pope." Poor, down-trodden creature! what a 



112 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

text for Mrs. Stowe! She has relented since then, 
however, and Cousin Bessie says often sends her pres- 
ents of dehcious rolls and light bread. She took me 
into favor at once, told me all about her '' rheumatiz," 
and " de spiration "of her heart, and kissed my hand 
fervently when I went away. Capt. Rust was so 
afraid of being left again that he would not wait for 
the omnibus, but trotted me off on foot an hour ahead 
of time, although it was raining. We met Mr. Wheat- 
ley and Maj. Daniel on our way to the depot, and they 
told us that a dispatch had just been received stating 
that the Yanks have landed at St. Mark's and are 
marching on Tallahassee. We first heard they were 
4,000 strong, but before we reached the depot, their 
numbers had swelled to 15,000. 

March 9, Thursday. — Mrs. Warren gave a dinner 
party to which all the people from Gopher Hill and a 
good many from Albany were invited, but very few 
attended on account of the weather. It poured down 
rain all day, and in the afternoon there was a furious 
storm; but Mrs. Maxwell is always in for a frolic, so 
we left home at eleven, between showers, and got to 
the Warrens' just before the storm burst. Gen. 
Graves, Mr. Baldwin, Joe Godfrey, Albert Bacon, 
and Jim Chiles were the only ones there besides Mrs. 
Maxwell and her guests. There is a fine lake in front 
of Mr. Warren's house, but the weather gave us no 
opportunity for rowing. We dined at six, and it was 
so dark when we rose from the table that we had to 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 113 

start for home at once. Mrs. Warren insisted on our 
staying all night, but there was company invited to 
spend the evening at Gopher Hill, so off we went in 
the rain. We took a new road to avoid some bad 
mud holes in the old one, and as a matter of course, 
lost our way in the numerous blind roads that cross 
each other in every direction through the pine woods, 
and which are all just alike except that they lead to 
different places — or to no place at all. The night was 
very dark and it rained furiously, though the wind 
had lulled. The glare of the lightning was blinding 
and terrific peals of thunder rang through the woods. 
Every few yards there were trees blown across the 
road, and the negro Mr. Warren had sent to guide us 
would have to grope about in the dark, hunting for 
some way around them. At last he confessed that he 
had lost his way, and then I fell back in a corner of 
the phaeton and began to say my prayers. As there 
was nothing else to do, we concluded to follow the 
blind path we were in, hoping it would lead some- 
where. It did lead us with a vengeance, through 
ponds and bogs and dismal swamps where the frogs 
filled our ears with unearthly noises. But all things 
have an end, even piney woods byroads, and at last 
we came out upon a broad smooth highway, which the 
guide recognized as the one he was looking for. Our 
troubles were now over, and in a short time we were 
back at Gopher Hill. Though it was very late, we 
began to dance and enjoy ourselves in a fashion, but 



114 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

everybody seemed to be more or less out of humor, 
for before we went to bed, I was made the confidante 
of four lovers' quarrels. 

March lo, Friday. — A day of public fasting and 
prayer for our poor country, but there was little of 
either done at Gopher Hill. We had a late breakfast 
after our night's dissipation, and soon after, Mr. Bald- 
win and Mr. Bacon came over and played cards till 
dinner-time. After dinner the gentlemen proposed a 
row on the lake, but Mrs. Maxwell and I were the only 
ones that had fasted and we wouldn't indulge in a 
frolic, and the others said they were afraid they might 
be drowned for their sins if they ventured on the 
water, so we drove to the station instead. We were 
too late to meet the train, but heard plenty of news. 
A tornado passed over the Flat Pond plantation yes- 
terday, destroying every house on it and killing fifteen 
negroes; a schoolhouse was blown down and several 
children killed; on one plantation all the poultry was 
drowned, and two calves blown away and never came 
down again! So much for marvels. But the whole 
country between Wooten's and Gopher Hill is really 
flooded. One bridge that we crossed was entirely 
under water and seemed ready to give way and go 
down stream at any moment. Jimmy caught a 
gopher * in the road on our way home, and we saw 
rows of them sitting on logs in the swamps, as if 
they were having a prayer-meeting. 

* A local name for a kind of terrapin common in that section. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 115 

March 11, Saturday. — Played euchre and wrote 
letters all the morning. Capt. Rust gave me a pretty 
tucking-comb which he had carved himself, out of 
maple wood. We had an early dinner and reached 
Wooten's at least half an hour before the train was 
due. At the depot in Albany, Albert Bacon, Joe God- 
frey, Mr. Baldwin, and Gen. Graves were waiting 
for us. We drove by the post office to get the mail, 
and there half a dozen others surrounded the carriage 
and took the reins from Uncle Aby so that he could 
not drive away. The people in the street laughed as 
they went by to see them buzzing round the carriage 
like bees, and presently Jim Chiles found Mary Leila 
Powers and Mrs. Bell and brought them up to add to 
the hubbub. Poor old Aby despaired of ever getting 
us out of town, and when at last we started down the 
street, we had not gone a hundred yards when I saw 
a young officer in a captain's uniform running after 
us and we came to another halt. It turned out to be 
Wallace Brumby. He says that he left Washington 
two weeks ago, and is water-bound here, on his way 
to Florida, where some of his men are straggling 
about, if they haven't been swallowed up by the fresh- 
ets that have disorganized everything. He promised 
to stop at Pine Bluff on his way down, and give us 
the news. Then Uncle Aby grew desperate, and see- 
ing another squad of officers coming up to join Capt. 
Brumby, whipped up his horses and drove off without 
further ceremony. He was right to hurry, for the 



ii6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

roads are so flooded that we had to travel 20 miles 
to get home. Everything is under water. In some 
places the front wheels were entirely submerged and 
we had to stand on the seats to keep our feet dry. It 
was nine o'clock before we reached home, and Mrs. 
Butler and Mrs. Meals had become so uneasy that 
they were about to send a man on horseback to see 
what had become of us. I found letters from home 
waiting for us, with permission to go to Chunnen- 
nuggee or anywhere else we want to. Communication 
between here and Washington is so interrupted that 
I don't suppose they have heard yet of the reported 
raid into Florida, and all our writing back and forth 
is at cross purposes. The latest news is that the 
Yankees have whipped our forces at Tallahassee, but 
the waters are so high and communication so uncertain 
that one never knows what to believe. At any rate, 
I shall not run till I hear that the enemy are at 
Thomasville. 

March 13, Monday. — Mett, Mecca, and I took a 
long drive to look at some new muslin dress goods 
that we heard' a countryman down towards Camilla 
had for sale. They were very cheap — only twenty 
dollars a yard. Mett and I each bought a dress and 
would have got more if Mrs. Settles, the man's wife, 
would have sold them. How they came to let these 
two go so cheap I can't imagine. I felt as if I were 
cheating the woman when I paid her 500 dollars in 
Confederate money for 20 yards of fairly good lawn. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 117 

We stopped at Gum Pond on the way back and paid 
a visit. Albert Bacon gave me a beautiful red-bird 
that he shot for me to trim my hat with. 

March 16, Thursday. — Rain, rain, rain, nothing but 
rain ! The river is out of its banks again and all that 
part of the plantation overflowed. A chain of ponds 
and lime sinks shuts us in behind, a great slough of 
backwater from the river cuts us off from the negro 
quarter, Wright's Creek is impassable on the North, 
and the Phinizy pond on the east. We are com- 
pletely water-bound; nobody can come to us and we 
can go nowhere. The carriage house was blown down 
in the storm on Tuesday night and the carriage will 
have to be repaired before we can use it again. We 
have not even the mail to relieve the monotony of life; 
sometimes the hack does not pass Gum Pond for four 
days at a time. 

March 20, Monday. — The rain has stopped at last 
and the waters are beginning to subside, but the roads 
are terrible. We have had a mail at last, too, and a 
long letter from home giving us carte blanche as to 
future movements; as dear old father expressed it: 
*' Go where you please, when you please, do what you 
please and call on Mr. Farley or Mr. Butler for all 
the money you need." That is the way I like to be 
treated. I think now we will go to Chunnennuggee 
by way of Eufaula and the Chattahoochee. The river 
trip would be pleasant, and Jenny and Julia Toombs 
are with their aunt in Eufaula, who has invited us 



ii8 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

to meet them there. However, our movements are 
so uncertain that I don't like to make engagements. 
We will stop a few days in Cuthbert with the Joyners, 
anyway. 

March 21, Tuesday. Albany. — Pouring down rain 
again, but the carriage had to go to Albany anyway, 
to meet sister, and Mecca was hurried home by news 
of the death of her aunt, so I rode in to the station 
with her. The roads are horrible — covered with 
water most of the way, and the mischief with these 
piney woods ponds is that you never know what 
minute the bottom is going to drop out and let you 
down with it to the Lord only knows where. The 
carriage was so much out of order that I expected the 
hind wheels to fly off at every jolt. I sent it to the 
shop to be repaired as soon as Mecca and I were 
safely deposited at Mrs. Sims's. The train was not 
due till three, and our good little friend occupied the 
time in trying to convert Mecca. Mec didn't abjure 
on the spot, but held out a flag of truce by remarking 
that her father had been baptized and brought up in 
the Episcopal Church. His apostasy only made mat- 
ters worse in Mrs. Sims's eyes; she could not under- 
stand how anybody reared in the true faith could fall 
away and become a dissenter. 

" Oh, he was surfeited with the prayer-book when 
a boy, he says," Mecca explained, laughing, " like he 
was with hominy and milk. Grandma used to make 
him eat it for breakfast every morning whether he 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 119 

wanted it or not, and in the same way she made him 
go to the Episcopal Church every Sunday, whether 
he wanted to or not, and so, as soon as he was old 
enough to have his own way, he swore off from both.'* 

" Why," exclaimed the zealous proselyter, '' I don't 
see why he should have let his dislike of hominy and 
milk drive him out of the church ! " 

Mecca tried to explain. Mrs. Sims shook her head. 
" Oh, I know," she said, '' but don't you think he did 
wrong to let such a thing as that cause him to leave 
the church ? I don't see what hominy and milk could 
have to do with anybody's religion." 

Mec laughed and gave it up. The rain stopped 
about dinner-time and it was beautifully clear when 
I drove to the depot for sister. She was very tired 
and went directly to Mrs. Sims's, but Mecca and I 
walked down Broad street to the post office, where we 
were joined by Mr. Godfrey and Dr. Vason. They 
and a number of others called in the evening. 

March 22, Wednesday. — Up very early and drove 
to the depot with Mecca. Mr. Godfrey was there 
and proposed that we should go as far as Smithville 
with her, and let him drive me out home in the after- 
noon, but the roads are so bad and the weather so 
uncertain that I thought I had better go back with 
sister. The journey was the worst we have made yet. 
We bogged at one place and had to wade through the 
mud while Aby helped the mules to pull the carriage 
over. At Wright's Creek we found a crowd of 



120 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

soldiers and countrymen on the bank, and they told 
us the creek was too high to cross. Some of them 
were exchanged prisoners impatient to get home, and 
they had determined to swim over. They stood on 
the bank with bare legs, ready to strip off and plunge 
in the moment our backs were turned. I couldn't help 
being amused at the nonchalance with which one burly 
fellow pulled off his stockings and commenced playing 
with his toes while talking to us. Another, wishing to 
call sister's attention to the water-mark, grabbed her 
by the arm and led her down the bank, saying: 

" See this here stick here, where the water has 
already begun to fall, an' hit'll fall a heap rapider the 
next hour or two." 

They meant no harm. These are unceremonious 
times, when social distinctions are forgotten and the 
raggedest rebel that tramps the road in his country's 
service is entitled to more honor than a king. We 
stood on the bank a long time, talking with the poor 
fellows and listening to their adventures. There was 
one old man standing on the shore, gazing across as 
wistfully as Moses might have looked towards the 
promised land. He could not swim, but his home 
was over there, and he had made up his mind to 
plunge in and try to cross at any risk. The soldiers 
saluted him with a few rough jokes, and then showed 
their real metal by mounting him on the back of the 
strongest of them, who waded in with his burden, 
while two others swam along on each side to give help 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 121 

in case of accident. Sister and I thought at first of 
getting Gen. Dahlgren to send us across in his pleasure 
boat, but soon gave up the idea and concluded to stay 
at the Mallarys' till the creek became fordable, for we 
knew it would fall as rapidly as it had risen. We 
bid our soldier friends good-by, and drove away to 
the Mallarys', where we spent a pleasant day and 
night. Gen. and Mrs. Dahlgren called after dinner 
and said that we ought to have stopped with them. 
Mrs. Dahlgren is a beautiful woman, and only twenty- 
two years old, while her husband is over sixty. He 
is a pompous old fellow and entertained us by telling 
how his influence made Gen. Joseph E. Johnston com- 
mander-in-chief of the Army of Tennessee; how Hood 
lost Atlanta by not following his (Dahlgren's) advice; 
how he was the real inventor of the Dahlgren gun, 
which is generally attributed to his brother, the 
Yankee admiral — and so on. 

March 23, Thursday. — We left the Mallarys' soon 
after breakfast and were successful in crossing the 
creek. It seems hard to believe that this stream, 
which is giving so much trouble now, will be as dry 
as a baked brick next summer. The road on the 
other side was fairly good and we got home long 
before dinner-time. No letters waiting for me, but 
a package from Mr. Herrin of Chunnennuggee, con- 
taining a beautiful fox tail in memory of our hunts 
together on the Ridge last winter. 

March 27, Monday. — Went to call on the Calla- 



122 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

ways, Mallarys, and Dahlgrens. The general and his 
wife were just starting out to make calls when we 
drove up, so we went along together. The roads are 
so perfectly abominable that it is no pleasure to go 
anywhere. At one place the water was half a foot 
deep in the bottom of the carriage, and we had to ride 
with our feet cocked up on the seats to keep them dry. 
Some of the ponds were so deep as almost to swim 
the mules, and others were boggy. We stopped at 
the post office on our way home and found a letter 
from Mec urging us to come over to Cuthbert right 
away. 

March 28, Tuesday. — Misses Caro and Lou Bacon 
spent the day with us, but I could not enjoy their visit 
for thinking of the poor boy, Anderson, who has been 
sent to jail. He implored me to beg " missis " to for- 
give him, and I couldn't help taking his part, though 
I know he deserved punishment. He refused to obey 
the overseer, and ran away four times. A soldier 
caught him and brought him in this morning with 
his hands tied behind him. Such sights sicken me, 
and I couldn't help crying when I saw the poor wretch, 
though I know discipline is necessary, especially in 
these turbulent times, and sister is sending him to jail 
more as an example to the others than to hurt him. 
She has sent strict orders to the sheriff not to be too 
severe with him, but there is no telling what brutal 
men who never had any negroes of their own will do ; 
they don't know how to feel for the poor creatures. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 123 

March 31, Friday. — Mrs. Callaway gave a large 
dining, and I wore a pretty new style of head dress 
Cousin Bessie told me how to make, that was very 
becoming. It is a small square, about as big as my 
two hands, made of a piece of black and white lace 
that ran the blockade, and nobody else has anything 
like it. One point comes over the forehead, just 
where the hair is parted, and the opposite one rests 
on top of the chignon behind, with a bow and ends of 
white illusion. It has the effect of a Queen of Scots 
cap, and is very stylish. The dining was rather 
pleasant. Kate Callaway's father, Mr. Furlow, 
was there, with his youngest daughter, Nellie, who 
is lovely. 

As we were coming home we passed by a place 
where the woods were on fire, and were nearly suffo- 
cated by the smoke. It was so dense that we could 
not see across the road. On coming round to the 
windward of the conflagration it was grand. The 
smoke and cinders were blown away from us, but 
we felt the heat of the flames and heard their roaring 
in the distance. The volumes of red-hot smoke that 
went up were of every hue, according to the materials 
burning and the light reflected on them. Some were 
lurid yellow, orange, red, some a beautiful violet, 
others lilac, pink, purple or gray, while the very fat 
lightwood sent up columns of jet-black. The figures 
of the negroes, as they flitted about piling up brush 
heaps and watching the fire on the outskirts of the 



124 T?IE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

clearing, reminded me of old-fashioned pictures of the 
lower regions. 

April I, Saturday. — There was fooling and counter 
fooling between Pine Bluff and Gum Pond all day. 
Jim Chiles and Albert Bacon began it by sending us 
a beautiful bouquet over which they had sprinkled 
snuff. We returned the box that had held the flowers, 
filled with dead rats dressed up in capes and mob 
caps like little old women. Then Albert tried to 
frighten us by sending a panicky note saying a dis- 
patch had just been received from Thomasville that 
the Yankees were devastating the country round there, 
and heading for Andersonville. We pretended to 
believe it, and sister wrote back as if in great alarm, 
inquiring further particulars. Albert got his father 
to answer with a made-up story that he and Wallace 
had both gone to help fight the raiders at Thomas- 
ville. They must have thought us fools indeed, to be- 
lieve that the enemy could come all the way from 
Tallahassee or Savannah to Thomasville, without our 
hearing a word of it till they got there, but we pre- 
tended to swallow it all, and got sister to write back 
that Metta and I were packing our trunks and would 
leave for Albany immediately, so as to take the first 
train for Macon; and to give color to the story, she 
sent word for Tommy, who was spending the day 
with Loring Bacon, to come home and tell his aunties 
good-by. They were caught with their own bait, and 
Albert and Jimmy, fearing they had carried the joke 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 125 

too far, came galloping over at full speed to prevent 
our setting out. We saw them coming across the 
field, and Mett and I hid ourselves, v^hile sister met 
them with a doleful countenance, pretending that we 
had already gone and that she was frightened out of 
her wits. She had rubbed her eyes to make them 
look as if she had been crying, and the children and 
servants, too, had been instructed to pretend to be in 
a great flurry. When the jokers confessed their trick, 
she pretended to be so hurt and angry that they were 
in dismay, thinking they had really driven us off, 
though all the while we were locked in our own room, 
peeping through the cracks, listening to it all, and 
ready to burst with laughter. They had mounted 
their horses and declared that they would go after 
us and fetch us back, if they had to ride all the way 
to Albany, when old Uncle Setley spoiled our whole 
plot by laughing and yawping so that he excited their 
suspicion. They got down from their horses and 
began to look for wheel tracks on the ground, and at 
last Jim, who missed his calling in not being a detec- 
tive, went and peeped into the carriage-house and 
saw the carriage standing there in its place. This 
convinced them that we had not gone to Albany, but 
where were we ? Then began the most exciting game 
of hide-and-seek I ever played. Such a jumping in 
and out of windows, crawling under beds and sliding 
into corners, was never done before. The children 
and servants, all but old fool Setley, acted their parts 



126 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

well, but Jimmy was not to be foiled. They bid sister 
good-by several times and rode away as if they were 
going home, then suddenly returned in the hope of 
taking us by surprise. At last, after dark, we thought 
they were off for good, and went in to supper, taking 
the precaution, however, to bar the front door and 
draw the dining-room curtains. But we had hardly 
begun to eat when Jimmy burst into the room, ex- 
claiming : 

"Howdy do. Miss Fanny; you made a short trip 
to Albany." 

We all jumped up from the table and began to bom- 
bard him with hot biscuits and muffins, and whatever 
else we could lay hands on. Then Mr. Bacon came 
in, a truce was declared, and we sat down and ate 
supper — or what was left of it — together. After 
supper we made Uncle Aby hitch up the carriage and 
drive us over to Gum Pond to surprise the family 
there. I dressed myself up like an old cracker woman 
and went in and asked for a night's lodging. Maj. 
Bacon thought I was Leila trying to play a trick on 
him, so he dragged me very unceremoniously into the 
middle of the room, under the lamp, and pulled my 
bonnet off. It was funny to see his embarrassment 
when he saw his mistake; he is so awfully punctilious. 
He said he was in the act of writing a note to send 
after us to Albany, when I came in. They were all so 
delighted at finding they had not frightened us out 
of the country, that we had a grand jubilee together. 




JULIA, DAUGHTER OF MRS. TROUP BUTLER 

(Mrs. W. H. Toombs) 

From a photograph taken aboi:t 1873 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 127 

We counted up before returning home, and found that 
forty-four miles had been ridden back and forth dur- 
ing the day on account of this silly April-fooling. I 
don't think I ever enjoyed a day more in my life. It 
began happily, too, with Anderson's return from jail 
early in the morning, and peace-making with his 
*' missis." I expect we were all as glad of the poor 
darkey's release as he was himself. Mett says she 
wouldn't care much if they could all be set free — but 
what on earth could we do with them, even if we 
wanted to free them ourselves ? And to have a gang 
of meddlesome Yankees come down here and take 
them away from us by force — I would never submit 
to that, not even if slavery were as bad as they pretend. 
I think the best thing to do, if the Confederacy were 
to gain its independence, would be to make a law 
confiscating the negroes of any man who was cruel 
to them, and allowing them to choose their own 
master. Of course they would choose the good men, 
and this would make it to everybody's interest to treat 
them properly. 

April 2, Sunday. — I went to church at Mt. Enon. 
After service we stopped to tell everybody good-by, 
and I could hardly help crying, for we are to leave 
sure enough on Tuesday, and there is no telling what 
may happen before we come back; the Yankees may 
have put an end to our glorious old plantation life 
forever. I went to the quarter after dinner and told 
the negroes good-by. Poor things, I may never see 



128 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

any of them again, and even if I do, everything will 
be different. We all went to bed crying, sister, the 
children, and servants. Farewells are serious things 
in these times, when one never knows where or under 
what circumstances friends will meet again. I wish 
there was some way of getting to one place without 
leaving another where you want to be at the same 
time; some fourth dimension possibility, by which we 
might double our personality. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 129 



CHAPTER III 

A RACE WITH THE ENEMY 

. April 3-22, 1865 

Explanatory Note. — There is hardly anything in this 
chapter but will easily explain itself. The war was vir- 
tually over when we left our sister, though we did not 
know it, and the various raids and forays alluded to in 
the journal were really nothing but the march of vic- 
torious generals to take possession of a conquered 
country. Communication was so interrupted that we did 
not hear of the fall of Richmond till the 6th of April, 
four days after it happened, and no certain news of Lee's 
surrender reached us till the 20th, eleven days after the 
event, though we caught vague rumors of it on the iQth^ 

Chunnennuggee Ridge, to which allusion is made in 
this chapter and the preceding, is a name given to a tall 
escarpment many miles in length, overlooking the rich 
prairie lands of South-East Alabama. On top of this 
bluff the owners of the great cotton plantations in the 
prairie made their homes, and for some five or six miles 
north of the town of Union Springs, about midway be- 
tween Montgomery and Eufaula, the edge of the bluff 
was lined with a succession of stately mansions sur- 
rounded by beautiful parks and gardens, very much as 
the water front of a fashionable seaside resort is built up 
to-day. The writer had frequently visited this delight- 
ful place with her cousin. Miss Victoria Hoxey (Tolie 
of the diary), who had a married sister living there. 



I30 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

April 3, Monday. Albany , Ga. — All of us very 
miserable at the thought of parting. Mrs. Meals goes 
with us as far as Wooten's, on her way to Gopher 
Hill, so sister and the children are left alone. Brother 
Troup has been ordered to Gen. Wofford's command 
in North Georgia, and this separation adds to her 
feeling of loneliness, but she and the children will soon 
join us in Washington, so it won't matter so much. 
The ride to Albany was very unpleasant, the sun 
scorching hot, the glare of the sand blinding, and Mrs. 
Meals with a headache. Mr. George Hull writes that 
the Georgia R.R. will be open for travel by the last 
of this month, and so our visits to Cuthbert and Macon 
will just fill in the interval for Mett and me. We 
can then go home by way of Atlanta. It is something 
to think we will be able to go all the way by rail and 
won't have to undergo that troublesome wagon ride 
again across the country. 

April 4, Cuthbert, Ga., Tuesday. — Up early and 
at the depot. Jim Chiles accompanied us as far as 
Smithville. We had to wait five hours there for the 
train to Cuthbert. The hotel was so uninviting that 
we stayed in the car, putting down the blinds and 
making ourselves as comfortable as we could. Capt. 
Warwick, who is stationed there, was very kind and 
attentive. He paid us a call in our impromptu parlor, 
and made some of his hands bring in buckets of water 
and sprinkle the floor to cool it off a little. Just be- 
fore the train arrived on which we were to leave, there 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 131 

came one with 1,100 Yankee prisoners on their way 
from Anderson en route for Florida, to be ex- 
changed.* 

The guard fired a salute as they passed, and some of 
the prisoners had the impudence to kiss their hands 
at us — but what better could be expected of the foreign 
riff-raff that make up the bulk of the Yankee army? 
If they had not been prisoners I would have felt like 
they ought to have a lesson in manners, for insulting 
us, but as it was, I couldn't find it in my heart to be 
angry. They were half -naked, and such a poor, mis- 
erable, starved-looking set of wretches that we couldn't 
help feeling sorry for them in spite of their wicked 
war against our country, and threw what was left of 
our lunch at them, as their train rattled by, thinking 
it would feed two or three of them, at least. But 
our aim was bad, and it fell short, so the poor crea- 
tures didn't get it, and if any of them noticed, I expect 

they thought we were only " d d rebel women " 

throwing our waste in their faces to insult them. I 
am glad they are going to be exchanged, anyway, and 
leave a climate that seems to be so unfriendly to them, 
though I think it is the garden spot of the world. If 
I had my choice of all the climates I know anything 



* This was a mistake. The Confederacy having now practically 
collapsed, and the government being unable to care for them any 
longer, the prisoners remaining in the stockade were sent to Jack- 
sonville, where the Federals were in possession, and literally forced 
back as a free gift on their friends. 



132 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

about, to live in, I would choose the region between 
Macon and Thomasville. 

The railroad from Smithville to Cuthbert runs into 
the " oaky woods " beyond Smithville, which are more 
broken and undulating than the pine flats, and the 
swamps are larger and more beautiful on account of 
the greater variety of vegetation. They are a huge 
mosaic, at this season, of wild azaleas, Atamasco 
lilies, yellow jessamine, and a hundred other brilliant 
wild flowers. My taste may be very perverted, but to 
my mind there is no natural scenery in the world so 
beautiful as a big Southern swamp in springtime. It 
has its beauty in winter, too, with the somber cypress, 
the stately magnolias, the silvery bays, and the jungle 
of shrubs and vines, gay with the red berries of holly 
and winter smilax. The railroad from Smithville to 
Cuthbert is lined on both sides with saw mills, getting 
out lumber for the government, and they are destroy- 
ing the beauty of the country. 

The Joyner girls and Capt. Greenlaw were at the 
depot to meet us. Mr. Joyner has bought an old hotel 
here for his family to refugee in, and it really makes 
a very pleasant residence, though not to compare with 
their pretty home in Atlanta, that the Yankees de- 
stroyed. Cousin Boiling's hospital has been moved 
here from Americus, and he and his little stepson, 
Brown Ayres, are boarding with the Joyners. Dr. 
Robertson, of Virginia, and Capt. Graybill, of Macon, 
are also members of the household. In these days, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 133 

when everybody is living from hand to mouth, and 
half the world is refugeeing, most people who are 
fortunate enough to possess homes have very hetero- 
geneous households. 

The village seems to be very gay. We found an 
invitation awaiting us for to-morrow night and the 
gentlemen in the house proposed a theater-party for 
this evening, to see the amateurs, but it is Lent, and I 
am trying to do better in the way of refraining from 
worldly amusements and mortifying the flesh, than I 
did in Montgomery last spring, so we spent the even- 
ing at home. 

April 5, Wednesday. — ^Just before daylight we were 
awakened by a lovely serenade, and I gave myself a 
sore throat trotting over the house bare-footed, hunt- 
ing for flowers to throw to the serenaders. Mett and 
Mary had all that were in the house in their room, 
and would not give the rest of us any. Their finest 
bouquet lodged in the boughs of a spreading willow 
aak near the window, and then we had the laugh on 
them. 

The girls were busy all day getting ready for Miss 
Long's wedding. I might take more credit to myself 
for keeping Lent if I had anything to wear, but my 
one new dress isn't made up yet, and everything else 
I have is too frazzled out to wear. Dr. Robertson 
and Capt. Graybill, both pretending to be good Episco- 
palians, urged me to go, but that unfinished dress was 
a powerful support to my conscience. I fixed Metta 



134 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

up beautifully, though, and she was very much ad- 
mired. Her hair that she lost last fall, from typhoid 
fever, has grown out curly, and her head is frizzled 
beautifully all over, without the bother of irons and 
curl-papers. Metta says she never saw more elegant 
dressing than at Miss Long's wedding, which is a great 
credit to the taste and ingenuity of our Southern girls 
in patching up pretty things out of all sorts of odds 
and ends. 

Capt. Tennille, an acquaintance of Garnett's, dined 
here, and five of Cousin Boiling's patients called in 
the afternoon. One of them, Capt. Guy, had had a 
curious experience with a minie ball that knocked out 
one tooth and passed out at the back of his neck with- 
out killing him. I laughed and told him he was cer- 
tainly born to be hanged. Another poor fellow, with 
a dreadfully ugly face, had six battle scars to make 
him interesting. 

A report has come that the Yankees have taken 
Selma, and a raid is advancing towards Eufaula, so 
that puts a stop to our Chunnennuggee trip. I can't 
say that I am disappointed, for I don't want to turn 
my face from home any more, but Mett was anxious 
to make the trip, and I thought it would be mean not 
to go with her. 

April 6, Thursday. — Capt. Greenlaw brought his 
flute and spent the morning. He is red-headed and 
ugly, but very musical, and such jolly good company 
that one can't help liking him. I don't know when I 



fi 








Effie St., vail, 
Augusta, Ga., i86f 



Annfe Mandeville, 
New Orleans, 18C3 




Gen. and Mrs John H. IMorgan, Mrs. Lydia King Doron, 

about 1863-4 Montgomerj-, 1862 



WAR-TIME fashion; 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 135 

have met a person that seemed so genial and altogether 
lovable, in a brotherly sort of way. ... I took a 
long walk through the village with Capt. .Greenlaw 
after dinner, and was charmed with the lovely gardens 
and beautiful shade trees. On coming home, I heard of 
the fall of Richmond. Everybody feels very blue, but 
not disposed to give up as long as we have Lee. Poor 
Dr. Robertson has been nearly distracted since he 
heard the news. His wife and five little children are 
on a farm near Petersburg, and he don't know what 
is to become of them. 

April 7, Friday. — Capt. Greenlaw spent the day here 
and brought me the biggest bouquet of the biggest red 
roses I ever saw; I couldn't help laughing when he 
threw it into my lap. He calls me " cousin," because he 
says we both have such red heads that we ought to be 
kin. There is something in his easy, good-natured way 
of laughing and joking about everything that reminds 
me a good deal of Fred. And he has the sweetest 
way in the world of carrying flowers about with him, 
and slipping them into your work basket, or throwing 
them into your lap, or laying them on your handker- 
chief — no matter where, but I can always tell when he 
has been about by finding a full-blown rose, or a sprig 
of wild honeysuckle, or a bunch of swamp lilies, or 
some other big bright flower lying around among my 
things. It rained most of the day, but was not too 
wet for many callers, and another long walk in the 
afternoon through this pretty little town. The two 



136 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

female colleges have been turned into hospitals, one of 
which is under Cousin Boiling's charge. 

The news this evening is that Montgomery has gone, 
and the new capital of the Confederacy will be either 
Macon, or Athens, Georgia. The war is closing in 
upon us from all sides. I am afraid there are 
rougher times ahead than we have ever known yet. I 
wish I was safe at home. Since Brother Troup has 
been ordered from Macon our chance of getting a gov- 
ernment wagon is gone, and the railroad won't be 
finished through to Atlanta for a week or ten days yet. 
If ever I do get back home again, I will stay there till 
the war is over. 

April 8, Saturday. — Cousin Boiling has returned 
from his visit to Americus. Mary, Lizzie, Mett, and 
I went to the depot to meet him and hear the news, 
then took a walk through Lovers' Lane, a beautiful 
shady road that runs through woods so thick as to 
make solid walls of green on either side. It is inter- 
sected with other roads as white and shady as itself, 
with all sorts of wild flowers blooming on the 
ground and climbing over the trees. This is indeed 
one of the loveliest villages I ever was in, but it has 
one most unromantic drawback; it is awfully infested 
with fleas. They are like an Egyptian plague, and 
keep you wriggling and squirming in a perpetual 
struggle against the vulgar impulse to scratch. 

Everybody is talking about the gloomy aspect of 
affairs. Capt. Greenlaw spent the morning as usual, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 137 

and the more I see of him the better I like him for his 
bright, cheery disposition. Among those who called 
in the evening, was a Mr. Renaud, of New Orleans, 
whom I liked very much. He has that charming 
Creole accent which would make it a pleasure to listen 
to him, even if he were not so nice himself. 

April 9, Sunday. — I went to worship with a little 
band of Episcopalians, mostly refugees, who meet 
every Sunday in a schoolhouse. It is a rough place, 
with very uncomfortable benches, but beautifully sit- 
uated in a grove just at the entrance to Lovers' Lane. 
The services were conducted by old Mr. George, who 
used to come out to the Tallassee plantation, as far 
back as I can remember, and hold mission services 
for father's and Mr. Nightingale's negroes, some- 
times in Uncle Jacob's cabin, sometimes in the little 
log chapel on Mr. Nightingale's Silver Lake place. 
He teaches in the little schoolhouse all the week to 
support his family — a full baker's dozen — and holds 
church services on Sundays for the refugees and 
soldiers of the faith that have stranded here. He has 
spent his life in mission work, laying the foundation 
of churches for other men to build on. There is 
something very touching in the unrewarded labor of 
this good man, grown gray in the service of his God. 
The churches he builds up, as soon as they begin to 
prosper, ask the bishop for another pastor. He wore 
no surplice, and his threadbare silk gown was, I verily 

believe, the same that he used to wear in the old plan- 
10 



138 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

tation chapel. It was pathetic to see him — his con- 
gregation still more so. It consisted mainly of poor 
wounded soldiers from the hospitals, especially in the 
afternoon, when there were no services in the other 
churches. They came, some limping on crutches, some 
with scarred and mangled faces, some with empty 
sleeves, nearly all with poor, emaciated bodies, tell- 
ing their mute tale of sickness and suffering, weari- 
ness and heartache. I saw one poor lame fellow 
leading a blind one, who held on to his crutch. An- 
other had a blind comrade hanging upon one arm 
while an empty sleeve dangled where the other ought 
to be. I have seen men since I came here with both 
eyes shot out, men with both arms off, and one poor 
fellow with both arms and a leg gone. What can 
our country ever do to repay such sacrifice? And 
yet, it is astonishing to see how cheerful these brave 
fellows are, especially Cousin Boiling's patients, who 
laughingly dub themselves " The Blind Brigade." 

I went to the Baptist Church with the Joyner girls 
at night. Metta and I were miore amused than edified 
during the sermon by hearing ourselves discussed in 
whispers by some people directly behind us. Two of 
them got into a dispute as to which was the best look- 
ing, but we could not hear how they decided it. One 
of them suggested that we were twins, and this gave 
me a good laugh on Mett, who is so much younger 
and better-looking than I, that the comparison was 
not at all flattering to her. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 139 

April 10, Monday. — The day was largely taken up 
with callers. When there is nothing else to do, we 
amuse ourselves by sitting at the windows and looking 
into the streets. Mr. Joyner's house is between the 
post office and the quarters of the provost guard, and 
just beyond the latter is a schoolhouse, so we are 
never at a loss for something to amuse us. The 
fashionable promenade of the village is up and down 
the street that runs in front of the house, but I like 
better to walk in the woods, which are very beautiful 
around here. 

The tableaux club met at Mrs. Joyner's in the even- 
ing. Metta and I will not be in Cuthbert long enough 
to take part in the entertainment, but were admitted 
to the rehearsal. After the rehearsal some one sug- 
gested that we should go out serenading. There were 
several good voices in the party, and after calling at 
one or two private houses, somebody said it would be 
a good idea to go and cheer up the soldiers in the Hood 
Hospital, which was but a block or two away, with 
some war songs. The poor fellows were so delighted 
when they heard us that all who were able, dressed 
themselves and came out on the terraces, while others 
crowded to the windows and balconies. They sent 
a shower of roses down on us, and threw with them 
slips of paper with the names of the songs they wished 
to hear. We gave them first : 

* Cheer, boys, cheer, we march away to battle," 



140 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

which pleased them so much that they called for it a 
second time. Then some one struck up ^' Vive 
V Amour" and Mett gave an impromptu couplet: 

" Here's to the boys in Confederate gray, 
Vive la coinpagm'e, 
Who never their country nor sweethearts betray, 
Vive, etc." 

While the soldiers were clapping and shouting the 
chorus, two good lines popped into my head, and when 
the noise had subsided a little, I sang: 

" Here's a toast to the boys who go Hmping on crutches, 
Vive la compagnie. 
They have saved our land from the enemies' clutches, 
Vive, etc." 

I waved my hand at a group of brave fellows lean- 
ing on crutches, as I finished, and a regular rebel yell 
went up from the hospital grounds. Flowers were 
rained down from the windows, and I never was so 
delighted in my life — to think that my little knack of 
stringing rhymes together had served some good pur- 
pose for once. The soldiers clapped and shouted and 
rattled their crutches together, and one big fellow 
standing near me threw up his battered old war hat, 
and cried out: 

" Bully for you ! give us some more ! " and then 
I added : 

"Here's death to the men who wear Federal blue, 
They are cowardly, cruel, perfidious, untrue," etc. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 141 

But after all, it looks as if the wretches are going to 
bring death, or slavery that is worse than death, to us. 
We may sing and try to put on a brave face, but alas ! 
who can tell what the end of it all is to be? 

April II, Tuesday. — I slept all the morning and 
was only wakened in the afternoon by Mary Joyner 
pulling at my feet and telling me to get up for dinner. 
I like Mary. Her manner is abrupt, but she is gen- 
erosity itself. Her devotion to the sick and wounded 
soldiers is beautiful. Often she will go without her 
dinner and always denies herself any special delicacy 
that happens to be on the table, in order to take it to 
one of the hospitals. Almost every mail brings her 
grateful letters from the soldiers she has nursed, or 
from the wives and sweethearts of those who will 
never need her services again. I love to hear her tell 
about her experiences in the Atlanta hospitals during 
the siege. Some of them are very funny, but more 
of them are sad. She was called " the hospital 
angel " in Atlanta, and well deserved the name. 

The Cuthbert Thespian Corps gave Richelieu at the 
theater this evening, for the benefit of the hospitals. 
Dr. Robertson acted the part of De Mauprat, and I 
dressed him for the occasion in the velvet cloak I 
bought from Mrs. Sims, and sleeves of crimson silk 
that had been the trousers of a Turkish costume that 
sister wore at a fancy ball in Columbus before the 
war. I didn't go to see the play because I am keeping 
Lent. 



142 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

April 12, Wednesday,— Brtakisist so late that vis- 
itors began to call before we had finished. In the 
evening, Mr. Renaud and Mr. Jeffers called. Mr. 
Jeffers is a wonderful mimic, and sings a comic song 
so well that I told him I wondered how he ever escaped 
being a vagabond. Dr. Robertson had got leave to 
start for Virginia in the morning, and was having a 
farewell party of gentlemen in his room, whom he 
seemed to be entertaining chiefly on tobacco and 
" straws." After a while they joined us in the parlor, 
and Mr. Jeffers introduced each one as he came in, 
with a happy little rhyming couplet on his name or 
occupation. Altogether, it was one of the brightest, 
wittiest things I ever heard, though I am sorry to say 
that some of the company gave evidence of having 
indulged too freely in '' straws," with the usual sea- 
sonings. Dr. Boyd says that my little rhyme about 
the boys on crutches did the sick soldiers more good 
than all his medicines. Some poor fellows who had 
hardly noticed anything for a week, he says, laughed 
and clapped their hands like happy children, as they 
lay on their beds and listened. He says they have 
been talking about it ever since. 

April 13, Thursday. — Slept away the morning as 
usual, and spent the afternoon returning calls, as that 
seems to be the fashionable time for visiting in Cuth- 
bert. The tableaux club met at Dr. Jackson's in the 
evening and after rehearsal we went to serenade the 
soldiers at the Hill Hospital, as it would seem like 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 143 

slighting them to pass them by after serenading the 
others. But they knew we were coming and so things 
didn't go off with the warmth and naturahiess of our 
other visit. They had prepared an entertainment for 
us, and brought us some lemonade made with brown 
sugar and citric acid. It was dreadful stuff, but the 
dear fellows were giving us the best they had, and, I 
am afraid, depriving themselves of supplies they 
needed for their own use. While we were drinking, 
somebody led off with a verse of the *' Confederate 
Toast " and then looked at me, and I added one that 
I felt half-ashamed of because I had made it up be- 
forehand and felt like an impostor, but couldn't help 
it when I knew beforehand what was coming: 

*' Here's to the Southern rebel, drink it down ; 
Here's to the Southern rebel, drink it down ; 
Here's to the Southern rebel, 
May his enemies go to the " 

I came to a sudden stop at the last word and the 
soldiers, with a laugh and a yell, took up the chorus 
and carried it through. Then we amused ourselves 
for some time answering each other with couplets, 
good, bad, and indifferent — mostly indifferent. My 
parting one was : 

" Hurrah for the soldiers who stay on the Hill ; 
They have fought, they have suffered, they are full of pluck still." 

April 15, Saturday. — A new rumor, that the Yan- 
kees are at Glenville, advancing on Eufaula, but those 



144 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

best qualified to judge seem to think this move only a 
feint, and that their real destination is Columbus. We 
seem to have been followed all winter by storms and 
floods and Yankee panics. We are not much dis- 
turbed by this one, however, as we expect to leave for 
Macon on Monday, anyway. 

Capt. Greenlaw and Mr. Renaud called in the after- 
noon, but I was frizzing my hair and the other girls 
were asleep, so none of us went downstairs to see 
them. Capt. Greenlaw came again in the evening, but 
he was either sick or in love, for he didn't laugh and 
tease as usual, and kept asking for sentimental songs. 

April 1 6, Easter Sunday. — The brightest, loveliest 
day I ever beheld, and our little schoolhouse of a 
chapel was well-filled, considering how few Episco- 
palians are here. Twelve females and not a single 
male received the communion. Capt. Greenlaw went 
with me to the afternoon service while the other girls 
were taking their nap, and we had a pleasant stroll 
afterwards through the woods. On the way home 
we met Cousin Boiling's servant, Jordan, who told me 
that Jenny and Julia Toombs were at the hotel with 
their father and had sent for Mett and me to come 
and see them. They had passed through Cuthbert on 
the morning train from Eufaula, but they had not 
gone fifteen miles beyond it when the boiler to their 
engine burst, and they had to come back on the after- 
noon train and spend the night here. We went imme- 
diately to the hotel and had a grand jubilee together. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 145 

April 17, Monday. Macon, Ga. — Up early, to be 
ready for the train at seven. The Toombses met us at 
the depot, where Capt. Greenlaw, Mr. Renaud, and a 
number of others came to see us off. When the train 
arrived from Eufaula it was already crowded with 
refugees, besides 300 volunteers from the exempts 
going to help fight the Yankees at Columbus. All 
sorts of wild rumors were flying, among them one 
that fighting had already begun at Columbus, and 
that a raid had been sent out towards Eufaula. Ex- 
citement on the train was intense. At Ward's Sta- 
tion, a dreary-looking little place, we picked up the 
train wrecked yesterday, with many of the passengers 
still on board. They had spent the night there in the 
cars, having nowhere else to go. Beyond Ward's, 
the failure of this train to appear had given color to 
all sorts of wild rumors about the advance of the 
Yankees into South- West Georgia. The excitement 
was intense all along the route. At every little station 
crowds were gathered to hear the news, and at many 
places we found a report had gone out that both our 
train and yesterday's had been captured. The excite- 
ment increased as we approached Fort Valley, where 
the Muscogee road (from Columbus) joins the South- 
western, and many of the passengers predicted that 
we should be captured there. At the next station be- 
low Fort Valley, our fears regarding the fate of Co- 
lumbus were confirmed by a soldier on the platform, 
who shouted out as the train slowed down, ** Columbus 



146 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

gone up the spout ! " Nobody was surprised, and all 
were eager to hear particulars. I was glad to learn 
that our poor little handful of Confederates had made 
a brave fight before surrendering. The city was not 
given up till nine last night, when the Yanks slipped 
over the railroad bridge and got in before our men, 
who were defending the other bridge, knew anything 
about it. We had not enough to watch both bridges, 
and it seemed more likely the attack would be made 
by the dirt road. Then everybody blundered around 
in the dark, fighting pretty much at random. If a 
man met some one he did not know, he asked whether 
he was a Yank or a Reb, and if the answer did not 
suit his views he fired. At last everybody became 
afraid to tell who or what they were. It was thought 
that our forces had retired towards Opelika. When 
we reached Fort Valley the excitement was at fever 
heat. Train upon train of cars was there, all the 
rolling stock of the Muscogee Road having been run 
out of Columbus to keep it from being captured, and 
the cars were filled with refugees and their goods. It 
was pitiful to see them, especially the poor little chil- 
dren, driven from their homes by the frozen-hearted 
Northern Vandals, but they were all brave and cheer- 
ful, laughing good-naturedly instead of grumbling 
over their hardships. People have gotten so used to 
these sort of things that they have learned to bear 
them with philosophy. Soldiers who had made their 
escape after the fight, without surrendering, were 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 147 

camped about everywhere, looking tired and hungry, 
and more disheartened than the women and children. 
Poor fellows, they have seen the terrors of war nearer 
at hand than we. As our train drew up at the depot, 
I caught sight of Fred in the crowd. He had been 
in the fight at Columbus, and I concluded was now on 
his way to Cuthbert to find Metta and me. I called 
to let him know that we were on board, but he did not 
hear me, and before I could make my way to the 
opposite window, the train moved on a few hundred 
yards and he was lost in the crowd. I was greatly 
disturbed, for it was said that the train we were on 
was the last that would be run over the South- Western 
Road. While I was in this dilemma. Col. Magruder 
and Marsh Fouche came out of the crowd and hailed 
me. They said they were on furlough and trying to 
make their way to Uncle Fouche's plantation in Ap- 
pling County. I told them my troubles, and they went 
to hunt up Fred for me, but must have gotten swal- 
lowed up in the crowd themselves, for I never saw 
either of them again. At last I sent for the con- 
ductor to unlock the door so that I could get out of 
the car and begin a search on my own account. Just 
as I had stepped out on the platform Fred himself 
came pushing through the crowd and sprang up beside 
me. He said that some of the passengers who had 
come with us from Cuthbert, happened to hear him 
say that he was going to South- West Georgia to get 
his sisters, and told him that we were there. 



148 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

From Fort Valley we traveled without interruption 
to Macon, where the excitement is at its climax. The 
Yankees are expected here at any moment, from both 
north and south, having divided their forces at Tuske- 
gee, it is said, and sent one column by way of Union 
Springs and Colimibus, and another through Opelika 
and West Point. I saw some poor little fortifications 
thrown up along the line of the South- Western, with 
a handful of men guarding them, and that is the only 
preparation for defense I have seen. We are told 
that the city is to be defended, but if that is so, the 
Lord only knows where the men are to come from. 
The general opinion seems to be that it is to be evacu- 
ated, and every preparation seems to be going forward 
to that end. All the horses that could be found have 
been pressed for the removal of government stores, 
and we had great difficulty in getting our baggage 
from the depot to the hotel. Mr. Legriel's nephew, 
Robert Scott, was at the train to take us out to Lily's, 
but Fred thought it best for us to stay at the hotel, as 
he wants to leave in the morning by the first train over 
the Macon & Western. Mulberry Street, in front of 
the Lanier House, is filled with officers and men rush- 
ing to and fro, and everything and everybody seems to 
be in the wildest excitement. ... In the hotel par- 
lor, when I came from Lily's, whom should I find but 
Mr. Adams, our little Yankee preacher ! I used to like 
him, but now I hate to look at him just because he is a 
Yankee. What is it, I wonder, that makes them so 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 149 

different from us, even when they mean to be good 
Southerners ! You can't even make one of them look 
like us, not if you were to dress him up in a full suit 
of Georgia jeans. I used to have some Christian 
feeling towards Yankees, but now that they have in- 
vaded our country and killed so many of our men and 
desecrated so many homes, I can't believe that when 
Christ said " Love your enemies," he meant Yankees. 
Of course I don't want their souls to be lost, for that 
would be wicked, but as they are not being punished 
in this world, I don't see how else they are going to 
get their deserts. 

April 18, Tuesday. — The first train on the Georgia 
R.R., from Atlanta to Augusta, was scheduled to run 
through to-day, and we started off on the Macon & 
Western so as to reach Atlanta in time to take the 
next one down, to-morrow. There was such a crowd 
waiting at the depot that we could hardly push our 
way through, and when the ladies* car was opened 
there was such a rush that we considered ourselves 
lucky to get in at all. Jenny and Jule were with us, 
and we were fortunate enough to get seats together. 
Fred and Mr. Toombs had great difficulty in getting 
our trunks aboard, and were obliged to leave us to 
look out for ourselves, while they attended to the bag- 
gage. Many people had to leave theirs behind, and 
some decided to stay with their trunks; they contained 
all that some poor refugees had left them. The trains 
that went out this morning were supposed to be the 



ISO THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

last that would leave the city, as the Yankees were 
expected before night, and many predicted that we 
would be captured. There was a terrible rush on all 
the outgoing trains. Ours had on board a quantity of 
government specie and the assets of four banks, be- 
sides private property, aggregating all together, it was 
said, more than seventeen million dollars — and there 
were somewhere in the neighborhood of i,ooo pas- 
sengers. People who could not get inside were hang- 
ing on wherever they could find a sticking place; the 
aisles and platforms down to the last step were full 
of people clinging on like bees swarming round the 
doors of a hive. It took two engines to pull us up the 
heavy grade around Vineville, and we were more than 
an hour behind time, in starting, at that. Meanwhile, 
all sorts of rumors were flying. One had it that the 
road was cut at Jonesborough, then, at Barnesville, 
and finally that a large force of the enemy was at 
Thomaston advancing toward the road with a view 
to capturing our train. I never saw such wild excite- 
ment in my life. Many people left the cars at the last 
moment before we steamed out, preferring to be 
caught in Macon rather than captured on the road, but 
their places were rapidly filled by more adventurous 
spirits. A party of refugees from Columbus were 
seated near us, and they seemed nearly crazed with 
excitement. Mary Eliza Rutherford, who was al- 
ways a great scatter-brain when I knew her at school, 
was among them, and she jumped up on the seat, tore 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 151 

down her back hair and went off into regular hysterics 
at the idea of falling into the hands of the Yankees. 
Such antics would have been natural enough in the 
beginning of the war, when we were new to these ex- 
periences, but now that we are all old soldiers, and 
used to raids and vicissitudes, people ought to know 
how to face them quietly. Of course it would have 
been dreadful to be captured and have your baggage 
rifled and lose all your clothes, but if the Yankees 
had actually caught us, I don't think I would have 
gone crazy over it. So many sensational reports kept 
coming in that I finally lost patience and felt like say- 
ing something cross to everybody that brought me a 
fresh bit of news. Before we left Macon, Mr. Ed- 
ward Shepherd gave me the worst fright I almost ever 
had, by telling me that my trunk and Jenny Toombs's 
had been thrown out of the baggage car and were 
lying on the track, but this proved to be a false alarm, 
like so many others. Then somebody came in and 
reported that the superintendent of the road had a 
dispatch in his hand at that moment, stating that the 
enemy was already in Barnesville. The statement 
seemed so authoritative that Fred went to Gen. 
Mackall himself, and was advised by him to continue 
his journey, as no official notice had been received of 
the cutting of the road. At last, to the great relief of 
us all, the train steamed out of Macon and traveled 
along in peace till it reached Goggins's Station, four 
miles from Barnesville, where it was stopped by some 



152 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

country people who said that the down train from 
Atlanta had been captured and the Yankees were just 
five miles beyond Barnesville waiting for us. A coun- 
cil was held by the railroad officials and some of the 
army officers on board, at which it was decided that 
the freight we were carrying was too valuable to be 
risked, although the news was not very reliable, having 
been brought in by two schoolboys. There was dan- 
ger also, it was suggested, that a raiding party might 
mistake such a very long and crowded train, where 
the men were nearly all forced out on the platforms, 
for a movement of troops and fire into us. I confess 
to being pretty badly scared at this possibility, but the 
women on board seemed to have worked off their ex- 
citement by this time, and we all kept quiet and be- 
haved ourselves very creditably. While the council 
was still in session, fresh reports came in confirming 
those already brought, and we put back to Macon, 
without standing on the order of our going. Helen 
Swift, a friend of the Toombses, who had joined us 
at Macon, lives only fifteen miles from the place where 
we turned back. She was bitterly disappointed, and 
I don't blame her for nearly crying her eyes out. Mr. 
Adams undertook to administer spiritual consolation, 
but I don't think Helen was very spiritually-minded 
towards Yankees just at that time. 

Excited crowds were waiting at all the stations as 
we went back, and the news we brought increased the 
ferment tenfold. The general impression seems to be 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 153 

that the Yanks are advancing upon Macon in three 
columns, and that they will reach the city by to- 
morrow or next day, at latest. We came back to the 
Lanier House, and Fred hopes to get us out by way 
of Milledgeville, before they arrive. When our train 
got back to Macon, the men on board had gradually 
dropped off on the way, so that I don't suppose there 
were more than 200 or 300 remaining of all that had 
gone out in the morning. The demoralization is com- 
plete. We are whipped, there is no doubt about it. 
Everybody feels it, and there is no use for the men 
to try to fight any longer, though none of us like to 
say so. 

Just before we reached Macon, the down train, 
which had been reported captured, overtook us at a 
siding, with the tantalizing news that we might have 
got through to Atlanta if we had gone straight on. 
The Yankees were twelve miles off at the time of its 
reported capture, and cut the road soon after it passed. 
There was an immense crowd at the depot on our 
return, and when I saw what a wild commotion the 
approach of the Yankees created, I lost all hope and 
gave up our cause as doomed. We made a brave fight 
but the odds against us were too great. The spell of 
invincibility has left us and gone over to the heavy 
battalions of the enemy. As I drove along from the 
station to the hotel, I could see that preparations were 
being made to evacuate the city. Government stores 

were piled up in the streets and all the horses and 
11 



154 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

wagons that could be pressed into service were being 
hastily loaded in the effort to remove them. The rush 
of men had disappeared from Mulberry St. No 
more gay uniforms, no more prancing horses, but only 
a few ragged foot soldiers with wallets and knapsacks 
on, ready to march — Heaven knows where. Gen. 
Elzey and staff left early in the morning to take up 
their new quarters either in Augusta or Washington, 
and if we had only known it, we might have gone out 
with them. I took a walk on the streets while waiting 
to get my room at the hotel, and found everything in 
the wildest confusion. The houses were closed, and 
doleful little groups were clustered about the street 
corners discussing the situation. All the intoxicating 
liquors that could be found in the stores, warehouses, 
and barrooms, had been seized by the authorities and 
emptied on the ground. In some places the streets 
smelt like a distillery, and I saw men, boys, and 
negroes down on their knees lapping it up from the 
gutter like dogs. Little children were staggering 
about in a state of beastly intoxication. I think there 
can be no more dreary spectacle in the world than a 
city on the eve of evacuation, unless it is one that has 
already fallen into the hands of the enemy. I re- 
turned to the hotel with a heavy heart, for while out 
I heard fresh rumors of Lee's surrender. No one 
seems to doubt it, and everybody feels ready to give 
up hope. " It is useless to struggle longer," seems to 
be the common cry, and the poor wounded men go 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 155 

hobbling about the streets with despair on their faces. 
There is a new pathos in a crutch or an empty sleeve, 
now, that we know it was all for nothing. 

April 19, Wednesday. Milledgeville. — They began 
to evacuate the city [Macon] at dusk yesterday, and 
all through the night we could hear the tramp of men 
and horses, mingled with the rattle of artillery and 
baggage wagons. Mr. Toombs was very averse to 
spending the night in Macon, and we were all anxious 
to push ahead to the end of our journey, but it was 
impossible to get a conveyance of any sort. Sam 
Hardeman, Jule's devoted, spent the evening with us, 
and as they are both very musical, we tried to keep up 
our spirits by singing some of the favorite war songs, 
but they seemed more like dirges now, and we gave up 
and went to our rooms. We got to bed early, know- 
ing we must be at the depot betimes in the morning, to 
secure seats on the train for Milledgeville, and had 
just thrown ourselves on the bed, when Jenny and 
Jule came running in, frightened out of their wits, de- 
claring that a man and his wife were quarreling in 
the room on one side of them, and a party of drunken 
men on the other, trying to open their door. They 
can beat any girls I know stirring up imaginary scare- 
crows, from a ghost to a burglar, and we tried to laugh 
away their foolish fears, but as we failed to pacify 
them we gave up our room to them and took theirs. 
We heard nothing more of either drunken men or 
domestic broils, and were so tired that we slept like 



156 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

logs till some time way in the night, we were wakened 
by a terrific thunder storm. A bolt struck one of the 
lightning rods of the hotel and made such a fearful 
crash that many of the guests, suddenly roused from 
their sleep, took it for a Yankee shell, and for a time 
the wildest excitement prevailed. Capt. Thomas told 
me afterwards that he never jumped so far in his life 
as when roused by that thunderbolt, which, in his first 
bewilderment, he mistook for the explosion of a shell. 
He didn't want to be killed in his bed now, he said, 
after going through the whole four years of the war. 
I had been awake some time, listening to the rain, when 
the shock came, and knew what it was, but I am just 
as much afraid of thunder and lightning as of Yankee 
bombs, and when that bolt struck, Mett and I flew 
across the corridor in our nightgowns to find the 
Toombs girls. We had some funny experiences, for 
it seems to me that everybody at the hotel was running 
round promiscuously in the corridors, but we were all 
too much excited to notice each other's dress — or 
rather, undress. Once, in my haste, I knocked at the 
wrong door, and it was some time before we could 
find the girls. Jenny and Jule had made for their 
father's room at the first alarm, and thinking they had 
found it, Jenny bolted in and called to a man in bed 
whom she took for her father. The man was either 
too drunk or too much of a gentleman to wake, and 
kept his eyes shut till Jenny made her escape. When 
we got back to their room, we all four piled into bed 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 157 

together and stayed there till morning, but none of 
us slept much. 

We were up almost by daylight, and even then 
found others starting to the depot ahead of us. There 
was great difficulty in getting transportation for bag- 
gage, and we had to foot it ourselves. The Yankees 
were expected every minute, and as this was our very 
last chance to escape, there was a great rush to get on 
board the train. Brother Troup had not been able to 
carry out his order to join Gen. Wofford, and sent our 
trunks to the station on a government wagon, and 
Gen. Cobb gave Mr. Toombs transportation for it on 
one of his cars, as far as Milledgeville. We gratified 
a pretty girl from Montgomery, and her escort, by 
taking their baggage to the station with ours. We 
saw one overloaded team take fright at a car whistle 
and run away, scattering the trunks piled up on it, and 
bursting some of them open — a serious misfortune in 
these times, when none of us have clothes to spare. 
We did not wait at the hotel for breakfast, but started 
off on foot with cold biscuits in our hands, which were 
all we had to eat. We reached the depot at least an 
hour before the schedule time. Three long trains, 
heavily laden, went down the South- Western, and 
Brother Troup got aboard one of them. I am glad he 
will be with sister in these trying times. There were 
enough people and baggage still at the depot to load a 
dozen trains, and the people scrambled for places next 
the track. Sidney Lanier, a friend of Fred's, was 



158 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

there, trying to get aboard one of the outgoing trains. 
Fred introduced him, but we soon lost each other in 
the crowd. The poor fellow is just up from a spell 
of typhoid fever, and looked as thin and white as a 
ghost. He said Harry Day was left behind sick, in 
Macon. When the Central train backed up, there was 
such a rush to get aboard that I thought we would 
have the life squeezed out of us. I saw one man 
knock a woman down and run right over her. I hope 
the Yankees will catch him. Fred and Mr. Toombs 
had to give their whole attention to the baggage, but 
we girls are all good travelers, and having legs of our 
own, which our trunks had not, we pushed our way 
successfully through the crowd. I was assisted by Mr. 
Duval, one of Cousin Boiling's patients whom I met 
in Cuthbert, and the four of us were comfortably 
seated. Nearly all our companions on yesterday's 
wild-goose chase towards Atlanta were aboard, and 
we also found Mrs. Walthall, going to Washington to 
visit Gen. Toombs's family, and Mrs. Paul Hammond, 
on her way to Augusta. Many people had to leave 
their baggage behind, and others still were not able to 
find even standing room for themselves. Gov. Brown 
was on board, and Mr. Toombs introduced him to me. 
He looked at me with a half-embarrassed expression 
and poked out his hand with no pretense at cordiality. 
Whether this was due to resentment at father's politi- 
cal stand, or merely to preoccupation about his own 
rather precarious affairs, I could not tell. He is a 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 159 

regular Barebones in appearance, thin, wiry, angular, 
with a sallow complexion and iron-gray hair. His 
face wears an expression of self-assertion rather than 
obstinacy and I couldn't help thinking how well he 
would have fitted in with Cromwell's Ironsides. He 
had on a rusty, short-tailed black alpaca coat that had 
a decidedly home-made set. He looked " Joe Brown," 
every inch of him, and if I had met him in Jericho, I 
would have said, *^ There goes Joe Brown." But when 
we reached Milledgeville, he heaped coals of fire on 
my head by offering us his carriage to drive to the 
hotel in. Every horse, mule, and vehicle in the place 
had been '* pressed " for removing the government 
stores that had been shipped from Macon; there was 
not even an ox-cart or a negro with a wheel-barrow 
to be hired, and the hotel full a mile away, and the 
sun blazing hot. Still, I declined at first, for I could 
not make up my mind to accept a favor from a man 
whose political course I respected so little, but the 
Toombses piled in and the governor himself courte- 
ously insisted that the rest of us should follow, or he 
would send the carriage back, he said, if it was too 
crowded. Mett and I then got in, and Mrs. Walthall 
climbed in after us. I felt rather ashamed of myself 
for all the mean things I have said about the old gov- 
ernor, but I couldn't help laughing at Mrs. Walthall, 
who overwhelmed him with gracious speeches, and 
then, the minute his back was turned, shook her fist 
at him out of the window, and added in an undertone : 



i6o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

*' But I would help to hang you to-morrow, you old 
rascal ! " This is politics, I suppose, with the s left 
off.* 

At the hotel we found all our traveling companions, 
who had come out from Macon, with a number of 
other fugitives, and while waiting for Fred and Mr. 
Toombs to hunt up conveyances, we amused our- 
selves getting acquainted and exchanging experiences 
with our fellow sufferers. Among the ones I liked 
best, were Mrs. Young and Dr. Morrow, from Mari- 
etta. Mrs. Walthall introduced us to her escort. Col. 
Lockett, an old bachelor, but as foolish about the girls 
as if he was a widower. Our pretty girl from Mont- 
gomery was there, too, but I did not learn her name, 
and a poor little Mrs. Smith from somewhere, with a 
sick, puny baby that everybody felt sorry for. Mrs. 
Howell and Mrs. Wardlaw, mother and sister of Mrs. 
Jefferson Davis, were also among the unfortunates 
stranded at that awful Milledgeville Hotel. Mrs. 
Howell was a stout old lady with a handsome, but 
rather determined face, and pretty, old-fashioned gray 
curls falling behind her ears. Col. Lockett innocently 



* Governor Brown's obstructive policy towards the end of the 
war, and his decided stand in opposition to President Davis, ren- 
dered him very obnoxious at this time to the friends of the latter, 
and these utterances must not be taken as anything more than the 
expression of this political animosity. The uncompromising de- 
votion of the writer's father, Judge Garnett Andrews, to the 
Union, precluded anything like political sympathy or personal 
intimacy between him and Georgia's strenuous war governor. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL i6i 

pointed her out to me as the housekeeper, when he 
saw me wandering about in search of a clean towel, 
but I told him I had been at the Milledgeville Hotel 
before and he couldn't make me believe that anybody 
connected with it could show a pound of superfluous 
flesh — a stroke of wisdom on my part that saved me 
from committing a dreadful faux pas. Afterwards, 
when we met in the parlor, she lost no time in letting 
us all know that she was the president's mother-in- 
law, and then went on to pay her compliments to 
everything and everybody opposed to Jeff Davis, 
Gov. Brown coming in for the lion's share. Mrs. 
Wardlaw, her daughter, had a good voice, and her 
sweet singing helped to make the time pass a little less 
tediously, but there her individuality seemed to end. 
Capt. Thomas, a young officer traveling with them, 
was charming; I don't know how we would have got 
through that " long, weary day " without him. 

After we had waited a long time, Fred and Mr. 
Toombs came in and reported that it was impossible 
to get a conveyance of any kind to Mayfield. It was 
all they could do to get our baggage hauled from the 
depot and we would probably have to spend the night 
where we were. Every conveyance in town had been 
"pressed" for removing government stores — where? 
Augusta is supposed to be the next objective point of 
the enemy, and Milledgeville is directly on the road 
from there to Macon. The panic has extended here, 
and everybody that can get out of the way is preparing 



i62 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

for flight. Their experience with Sherman's army 
last winter naturally doesn't make these people long 
for another visit. Fred had engaged a two-horse 
wagon for one thousand dollars, but while he was 
having our trunks put on it, a government official 
came up and '' pressed " it. As we couldn't help our- 
selves, we resolved to make the best of the situation, 
so we went to our room to get a little rest and make 
ourselves presentable before dinner-time. We had 
engaged a large room with two beds so that we girls 
could all be together, but when we entered, our hearts 
sank, accustomed as we are to war-time fare. There 
was no slop tub, wash basin, pitcher nor towels, and 
the walls on each side of the beds were black with 
tobacco spit. The fireplace was a dump heap that was 
enough to turn the stomach of a pig, and over the 
mantel some former occupant had inscribed this cau- 
tion: 

" One bed has lice in it, the other fleas, and both bugs ; chim- 
ney smolces ; better change." 

Prompted by curiosity I turned down the cover of 
one bed, and started such a stampede among the bugs 
that we all made for the door as fast as our feet would 
carry us and ordered another room, which, however, 
did not prove much better. Our next step was to 
make a foray for water and towels. The only water 
supply we could find was in a big washtub at the head 
of the stairs, where everybody stopped to drink, those 
who had no cups stooping down and lapping it up with 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 163 

their hands, or dipping in their heads. There was but 
one chambermaid to the whole establishment, and she 
was as hard to catch as the Irishman's flea. Both 
Fred and Mr. Toombs were off, hunting for con- 
veyances, so we had to shift for ourselves. We tried 
to ring a bell that hung in the passage, but Sherman's 
angels had cut the cord. A young captain who was 
watching our maneuvers, advised us to cry '* Fire ! '* 
as the surest way of getting water brought. Just at 
this time, Fred's boy, Arch, came up and we made 
him shovel some of the dirt out of our room and bring 
up fresh water in a broken pitcher we found there. 
After making ourselves as decent as circumstances 
would permit, we went down to the dining-room. 
There was literally nothing on the table but some 
broken crockery, the remains of Sherman's little tea- 
party, but one of the black waiters promised to get us 
a nice dinner if we would " jest have de patience to 
deviate back to de parlor " and wait a little while, till 
he could get it ready. He was so polite and plausible 
that we " deviated," and after more than half an hour, 
went back to the dining-room, where we exercised our 
patience for another half -hour, when, at last, he came 
bustling in with some ham and eggs and raw corn 
bread. I looked about on my plate for a clean spot 
on which to deposit my share, and, finding none, 
dabbed it down at random, and went for it, dirt and 
all, for I was desperately hungry. Soon after dinner 
Mr. Toombs came in to say that Gov. Brown had 



i64 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

provided him with a conveyance for himself and 
daughters and they were to start at once. After the 
Toombses left, Mrs. Walthall asked Mett and me to 
share her room, as she was afraid to stay by herself, 
and we, too, were glad of a companion. Late in the 
afternoon we went out and saw the Georgia cadets on 
dress parade in front of the capitol. Mrs. Walthall 
and Col. Lockett joined us there, with several gentle- 
men that we had met at the hotel, and we had a fine 
time. Among the cadets we recognized Milton Reese, 
Tom Hill, and Davy Favor, from Washington, and as 
soon as the drill was over, we went into the capitol 
with them and saw the destruction the Yankees had 
made. The building was shockingly defaced, like 
everything else in Milledgeville. There don't seem to 
be a clean or a whole thing left in the town. The boys 
told us that the cadets are so hot against the governor 
for not ordering them into active service that they had 
hung him in effigy right there in the capitol grounds. 
His son is among them, and the boys say the gov- 
ernor won't let them fight because he is afraid Julius 
might get hurt. The truth is, they ought all to be at 
home in their trundle beds, Julius with the rest, for 
they are nothing but children. When we returned to 
the hotel, Fred met us with the joyful news that he 
had found a man with a miserable little wagon and 
two scrubby mules hid out in the woods, who had 
agreed to take us to Mayfield for twenty-five hundred 
dollars, provided Fred would get his team exempted 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 165 

from empressment. He (Fred) went at once to Col. 
Pickett, who granted the exemption, and we could be 
off as early in the morning as we chose. We spent 
part of the evening in the hotel parlor, trying to be 
cheerful by the light of a miserable tallow dip, but soon 
gave it up and came away to our room. 

April 20, Thursday. Sparta, Ga. — I went to bed 
about eleven last night, but never slept a wink for bed- 
bugs and cockroaches, to say nothing of the diabolical 
noises in the streets. All night long, as I lay awake, 
I was disturbed by the sound of men cursing and 
swearing and singing rowdy songs in and around the 
hotel. About two o'clock, in the midst of this pande- 
monium, a string band began to play under our win- 
dow, and it seemed to me I had never heard such 
heavenly music in my life as this' was, in contrast with 
the vile noises I had been listening to. About eight 
o'clock in the morning our wagon was at the door and 
we bade a joyous farewell to Milledgeville. It was 
only a shabby little covered cart, with the bows so 
short that if we attempted to sit upright the cover 
rested on our heads and the sun baked our brains 
through it. Fred and Arch had to walk, the wretched 
team being hardly able to carry Mett and me and the 
trunks. We traveled at the rate of about two miles 
an hour and a cost of one hundred dollars a mile. 
The day was intensely hot, and the dust stifling. I 
tried to relieve the poor mules by walking up some of 
the worst hills, but the blazing sun got the better of 



i66 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

my humanity and I crawled into the wagon again. We 
crossed the Oconee on a pontoon bridge, where the fat 
old ferryman now acts as toll-collector. About a 
mile beyond the river we turned off and traveled to 
Sparta by a different road from the one we had fol- 
lowed last winter. It was longer, but better than the 
other, not being so much traveled, and we hoped to 
get rid of some of the dust; but in this we were dis- 
appointed, for we were mixed up all day in an endless 
succession of wagon trains, soldiers, and refugees, 
that made us wonder who there was to go by the other 
road. After the first few miles we were so tired that 
we took off our hats and lay down in the wagon to 
take a nap. When we waked we found that both hats 
and a basket containing all our toilet articles, had 
jolted out and been lost. So many people had passed 
us that Fred said it was no use to try to get them 
back, but I made Arch take one of the mules out of 
the wagon and go back to look for them, and, as much 
to my surprise as delight, he recovered the basket. I 
was so glad to see it that I forgot to grieve over the 
hats. Besides my brush and comb and tooth-brush, it 
contained all the leaves of my journal that I have 
written since leaving home last winter, which I had 
torn out of the book on the stampede from Macon, 
fearing my trunk might be lost. What a mess there 
would be if it had been found by some of the people 
I have been writing about ! When I once got it back 
I hardly took my hands off it again all day. At noon 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 167 

we dined on a dirty biscuit apiece that we had brought 
from Milledgeville, for we could buy nothing to eat 
along the road. The country seems to have pretty 
well recovered from the effects of Sherman's march, 
so far as appearances go; the fields are tilled and 
crops growing, but people are still short of provisions, 
and nobody wants to take Confederate money. The 
rumors about Lee's surrender, together with the pan- 
icky state of affairs at home, have sent our depreciated 
currency rolling down hill with accelerated velocity. 
Between six and seven in the evening we reached 
Sparta, and found one hotel closed and the other full 
of smallpox. We didn't like to impose on the hospi- 
tality of the Simpsons again, and Col. Lockett, who 
had secured lodging for Mrs. Walthall at a private 
house, advised us to go on to Culver's, where we had 
stopped to change horses last winter, but our sorry 
little team was too broken down to carry us any 
farther. While we were standing in the street dis- 
cussing what had best be done, a nice-looking old gen- 
tleman called Fred aside, and insisted that we should 
go to his house. He had heard Col. Lockett call us by 
name, he said, and being a great friend and admirer 
of father's, declared that Judge Andrews's children 
should never want for a lodging as long as he had a 
roof over his head. He gave his name as Harris, 
and said there was not a family in Sparta but would 
be proud to entertain us if they knew who we were, so 
great was their love and respect for our father. It 



i68 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

made me feel good to hear that, for his being such a 
strong Union man has made father unpopular in some 
parts of the State. I hate the old Union myself, but 
I love father, and it makes me furious for anybody 
to say anything against him. It would seem as if a 
good many people about here quietly shared his opin- 
ions, or at any rate, respected them, for Mr. Soularde 
and several others came up as soon as they learned 
our name, and invited us to their houses, and said it 
would always be a pleasure to them to entertain any 
of Judge Andrews's family. 

We were so tired of being pounded and jolted in 
our dusty little cart that we preferred walking to Mr. 
Harris's, in spite of the disreputable appearance we 
made, hatless and gloveless and dirty as we were. We 
met the Simpson girls on the way, with Jenny and 
Jule, and they invited us to go home with them, but 
Mr. Harris had the first claim, and to tell the truth, I 
had taken a liking to him before I had known him ten 
minutes, and would not, on any account, have missed 
the pleasure of a nearer acquaintance. When we 
reached his home my anticipations were more than 
realized. It was a large white house in the midst of 
a beautiful garden, where roses of all sorts were run- 
ning riot, filling the air with fragrance and the earth 
with beauty. On the colonnade were a number of 
guests whom the hospitality of our host had brought 
together, and among them we were delighted to meet 
again our fellow travelers, Mrs. Young and Dr. Mor- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 169 

row. Mrs. Harris met us with such a warm, motherly 
welcome that I felt like throwing myself on her breast, 
but remembering how dirty and draggled out I was, I 
practiced the Golden Rule, and did as I would be done 
by. We were shown at once to a beautiful, clean 
room, with plenty of water and towels, and oh! the 
luxury of a good bath ! But when I went to get out 
some clean clothes, I found that among other things, I 
had lost my keys and could not get into my trunk. I 
borrowed what I could from Metta, but her things 
don't fit me, and I made a comical appearance. I was 
too hungry to care, however, after starving since 
Monday, and such a supper as we had was enough to 
make one forget all the ills of life. Delicious fresh 
milk and clabber, sweet yellow butter, with crisp 
beaten biscuits to go with it, smoking hot waffles, and 
corn batter cakes brown as a nut and crisped round 
the edges till they looked as if bordered with lace. It 
was a feast for hungry souls to remember. After 
supper we went into the parlor and had music. We 
tried to sing some of our old rebel songs, but the words 
stuck in our throats. Nobody could sing, and then 
Clara Harris played ** Dixie," but it sounded like a 
dirge. 

The house was so full that Mrs. Harris was obliged 
to crowd us a little, and Mrs. Morrow shared our 
room with Mett and me. We had a funny time talk- 
ing over our experiences. She says that the charming 

captain fell dead in love with me at Milledgeville, and 
13 



I70 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

was so struck with my appearance that he couldn't 
rest till he found out my name. He asked her all 
sorts of questions about me, and I almost laughed my- 
self hoarse at the extravagant things she told him. 
And she didn't know me, either, any better than he 
did, but that only made it the more amusing. 

April 21 y Friday. Haywood. — That delicious clean 
bed in Sparta! I never had a sweeter sleep in my 
life than the few hours I spent there. Fred said we 
must be off at daylight so as to reach Mayfield in time 
for the train, with our sorry team, so we bid our hosts 
good-by before going to bed in order not to rouse 
them at such a heathenish hour. But about two 
o'clock in the morning the whole town was roused by 
a courier who came in with news that the Yankees 
were in Putnam County, only twelve miles off. It is 
absurd for people to fly into a panic over every wild 
rumor that gets afloat, but I was glad the courier 
came, for three o'clock was the hour appointed for us 
to start, and I was sleeping so soundly that I am sure 
I would never have waked in time but for him. The 
moon had just risen as we moved out of Sparta, and 
I walked with Fred in the pleasant night air till day 
began to dawn. We tried to get breakfast at Culver's, 
and again at Whaley's, the only public houses on the 
way, but were refused at both places, so we had to 
satisfy ourselves with the recollection of Mrs. Har- 
ris's good supper and a crust of stale bread that I 
found in Arch's basket. We reached Mayfield about 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 171 

nine and had to wait an hour for the cars to start. 
Mrs. Hammond had got there before us. She said 
that she could find no shelter the night before, and 
had to sleep out under the trees with her little chil- 
dren. She is a sensible woman, and didn't seem dis- 
posed to make a martyr of herself, but I felt ashamed 
for Georgia hospitality. Our other companions joined 
us at Mayfield, and the Toombses brought the general 
with them. I was glad to see him safe thus far, out 
of Yankee clutches, but I would not like to be in his 
shoes when the end comes. He brought confirmation 
of Lee's surrender, and of the armistice between 
Johnston and Sherman. Alas, we all know only too 
well what that armistice means! It is all over with 
us now, and there is nothing to do but bow our heads 
in the dust and let the hateful conquerors trample us 
under their feet. There is a complete revulsion in 
public feeling. No more talk now about fighting to 
the last ditch; the last ditch has already been reached; 
no more talk about help from France and England, 
but all about emigration to Mexico and Brazil. We 
are irretrievably ruined, past the power of France and 
England to save us now. Europe has quietly folded 
her hands and beheld a noble nation perish. God 
grant she may yet have cause to repent her cowardice 
and folly in suffering this monstrous power that has 
crushed us to roll on unchecked. We fought nobly 
and fell bravely, overwhelmed by numbers and re- 
sources, with never a hand held out to save us. I 



1/2 THE WAR-'TIME JOURNAL 

hate all the world when I think of it. I am crushed 
and bowed down to the earth, in sorrow, but not in 
shame. No! I am more of a rebel to-day than ever 
I was when things looked brightest for the Confed- 
eracy. And it makes me furious to see how many 
Union men are cropping up everywhere, and how few 
there are, to hear them talk now, who really approved 
of secession, though four years ago, my own dear old 
father — I hate to say it, but he did what he thought 
was right — was almost the only man in Georgia who 
stood out openly for the Union. 

We found the railroad between Mayfield and 
Camack even more out of repair than when we passed 
over it last winter, and the cars traveled but little 
faster than our mule team. However, we reached 
Camack in time for the train from Augusta, and as 
we drew up at the platform, somebody thrust his head 
in at the window and shouted : *' Lincoln's been assas- 
sinated ! " We had heard so many absurd rumors 
that at first we were all inclined to regard this as a 
jest. Somebody laughed and asked if the people of 
Camack didn't know that April Fools' Day was past; 
a voice behind us remarked that Balaam's ass wasn't 
dead yet, and was answered by a cry of " Here's your 
mule ! " * But soon the truth of the report was con- 
firmed. Some fools laughed and applauded, but wise 
people looked grave and held their peace. It is a 



* A meaningless slang phrase in common use among the sol- 
diers during the war. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 173 

terrible blow to the South, for it places that vulgar 
renegade, Andy Johnson, in power, and will give the 
Yankees an excuse for charging us with a crime which 
was in reality only the deed of an irresponsible mad- 
man. Our papers ought to reprobate it universally. 
About one o'clock we reached Barnett, where I used 
to feel as much at home as in Washington itself, but 
there was such a crowd, such a rush, such a hurrying 
to and fro at the quiet little depot, that I could hardly 
recognize it. The train on our Washington branch 
was crammed with soldiers; I saw no familiar face 
except Mr. Edmundson, the conductor. There is so 
much travel over this route now that three or four 
trains are run between Washington and Barnett daily, 
and sometimes double that number. We looked out 
eagerly for the first glimpse of home, and when the 
old town clock came into view, a shout of joy went 
up from us returning wanderers. When we drew up 
at the depot, amid all the bustle and confusion of an 
important military post, I could hardly believe that 
this was the same quiet little village we had left sleep- 
ing in the winter sunshine five months ago. Long 
trains of government wagons were filing through the 
streets and we ran against squads of soldiers at every 
turn. Father met us at the depot, delighted to have 
us under his protection once more, and the rest of the 
family, with old Toby frisking and barking for joy, 
were waiting for us at the street gate. Mary Day 
isn't able to walk that far yet, but we met her in the 



174 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

sitting-room. She is not exactly pretty, but what I 
should call picturesque-looking, and her eyes are beau- 
tiful. Oh, what a happy meeting we all had, and how 
beautiful home does look, with the green leaves on the 
trees and the Cherokee roses in full bloom, flinging 
their white festoons clear over the top of the big syca- 
more by the gate! Surely this old home of ours is 
the choicest spot of all the world. 

The first thing we did after seeing everybody and 
shaking hands all round with the negroes, was to take 
a good bath, and I had just finished dressing when 
Mrs. Elzey called, with Cousin Boiling's friend, Capt. 
Hudson, of Richmond. He was an attache of the 
American legation in Berlin while Cousin Boiling was 
there studying his profession, and they have both come 
back with the charming manners and small affectations 
that Americans generally acquire in Europe, especially 
if they have associated much with the aristocracy. 
People may laugh, but these polished manners do 
make men very nice and comfortable to be with. 
They are so adaptable, and always know just the right 
thing to say and do. 

Mrs. Elzey says the general is coming to Washing- 
ton with the rest of his staff, to remain till something 
is decided, and we begin to know what is before us. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 175 



CHAPTER IV 

THE PASSING OF THE CONFEDERACY 

April 22 — May 5, 1865 

Explanatory Note. — The little town of Washington, 
Ga., where the remaining events of this narrative took 
place, was the center of a wealthy planting district about 
fifty miles above Augusta, on a branch of the Georgia 
Railroad. The population at this time was about 2,200, 
one-third of which was probably white. Like most of the 
older towns in the State it is built around an open square, 
in the center of which stood the quaint old county court- 
house so often mentioned in this part of the diary, with 
the business houses of the village grouped around it. On 
the north side was the old bank building, where Mr. Davis 
held his last meeting with such of his official family as 
could be got together, and signed his last official paper 
as president of the Southern Confederacy. Two rooms 
on the lower floor were used for business purposes, while 
the rest of the building was occupied as a residence by 
the cashier. On the outbreak of the war the bank went 
out of business, but Dr. J. J. Robertson, who was cashier 
at the time, continued to occupy the building in the interest 
of the stockholders. Mrs. Robertson, like everybody else 
in the village at that time, had received into her house a 
number of refugees and other strangers, whom the col- 
lapse of the Confederacy had stranded there. Its original 
name clung to the building long after it ceased to have 



176 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

anything to do with finance, and hence the frequent al- 
lusions to " the bank " in the diary. 

And now, that the narrative of the diary may be clearer, 
I must crave the reader's indulgence while I add a few 
words about the personal surroundings of the writer. A 
diary, unfortunately, is from its very nature such a self- 
centered recital that the personality of the author, how- 
ever insignificant, cannot be got rid of. 

My father, Judge Garnett Andrews, was a Georgian, a 
lawyer by profession, and for nearly thirty years of his 
life, judge of the Northern Circuit, holding that office at 
the time of his death in 1873. He was stoutly opposed to 
secession, but made no objection to his sons' going into 
the Confederate army, and I am sure would not have 
wished to see them fighting against the South. Although 
he had retired from public Hfe at the time, he was elected 
to the legislature in i860 under rather unusual circum- 
stances; for the secession sentiment in the county was 
overwhelming, and his unwavering opposition to it well 
known. He did his best to hold Georgia in the Union, 
but he might as well have tried to tie up the northwest 
wind in the corner of a pocket handkerchief. The 
most he could do was to advocate the call of a conven- 
tion instead of voting the State out of the Union on the 
spot. 

I shall never forget that night when the news came that 
Georgia had seceded. While the people of the village 
were celebrating the event with bonfires and bell ringing 
and speech making, he shut himself up in his house, dark- 
ened the windows, and paced up and down the room in 
the greatest agitation. Every now and then, when the 
noise of the shouting and the ringing of bells would pene- 
trate to our ears through the closed doors and windows, he 
would pause and exclaim : " Poor fools ! They may ring 




JUDGE GARNETT ANDREWS, 1827 
From an old miniature 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 177 

their bells now, but they will wring their hands — ^yes, and 
their hearts, too — before they are done with it." 

This scene made a deep impression on my mind, as may 
be judged from the frequent allusions to it in the diary. 
My sister Metta and I were pouting in a corner because 
he would not allow us to go and see the fun. My two 
brothers, Henry and Garnett — Fred was on the planta- 
tion in Mississippi — were taking an active part in the 
celebration, and I myself had helped to make the flag 
that was waving in honor of the event, which he so 
iDitterly deplored. It was the same Lone Star banner of 
which mention is made in the text. My brother Henry, 
who was about as hot-headed a fire-eater as could be 
found in the South, had brought the material to his young 
wife — Cora, of the journal — and we made it on the sly, 
well knowing that our '' Bonnie Blue Flag " would soon 
become a " Conquered Banner," or rather a confiscated 
one, if father should once get wind of what we were 
about. It consisted of a large five-pointed star, the em- 
blem of States' Rights, and was made of white domestic 
on a field of blue. It was afterwards ripped off in the 
strenuous days when our boys were following the " Stars 
and Bars," and the blue field used to line the blanket of a 
Confederate soldier. What was left of it when he came 
back is still preserved in the family. 

My father was not what would now be called a rich 
man, though his fortune was ample for those times. I do 
not think he owned more than 200 negroes. The ex- 
travagant ideas that have been propagated by irresponsible 
writers about the fabulous wealth of the old planters had 
no foundation in fact, outside a few exceptional cases. 
There was, at the time of which I am writing, but a single 
man in Georgia who was reputed to be worth as much as 
a million dollars, and he gained not one iota of importance 



178 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

or influence from this source. His family lived very much 
as the rest of us did, and their social position was as good 
as anybody's, but for that divinity which would now at- 
tach to the mere vulgar fact of being the richest man of 
his state, it is doubtful whether, if a list were made of 
the twenty-five most influential families in Georgia at 
that time, his name would even be mentioned in it. 

While the structure of our social fabric was aristocratic, 
in the actual relations of the white population with one an- 
other it was extremely democratic. Life was simple, 
patriarchal, unostentatious. Our chief extravagance was 
the exercise of unlimited hospitality. Anybody that 
was respectable was welcome to come as often as they 
liked and stay as long as they pleased, and I remember 
very few occasions during my father's life when there 
were no guests in the house. His family proper, at this 
time, not counting guests, included, besides his wife and 
children (there were seven of us), my brother Henry's 
wife and her little daughter, Maud, now Mrs. J. K. Ohl, 
known to the press as Annulet Andrews; Mrs. L. S. 
Brown ("Aunt Sallie " of the diary), and Miss Eliza 
Bowen, a niece of my father, who had been adopted into 
his family many years before, on the death of her parents, 
not as a dependent, but for the sake of the guidance and 
protection which every " female " was supposed, in those 
days, to require at the hand of her nearest male relation. 
She was a woman of unusual intelligence, but full of 
amusing eccentricities that were a constant source of 
temptation to us fun-loving young people, and often got 
us into trouble with our elders. She was known later as 
the author of a successful school book, " Astronomy by 
Observation." 

" Aunt Sallie " was a quaint, lovable old lady, famous 
for her good dinners and her wonderful frosted cakes. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 179 

without which no wedding supper in the village was com- 
plete. But the accomplishment she took the greatest 
pride in, was her gift for " writing poetry " — which con- 
fined itself, however, to the innocent practice of compos- 
ing acrostics on the names of her friends. The deprecat- 
ing, yet self-conscious air with which these very original 
productions were slipped into our hands on birthdays and 
other anniversaries, was only less amusing than the verses 
themselves. She had no children, but a little pet negro 
named Simon, the son of a favorite maid who had died, 
filled a large place in her affections and used to " bull- 
doze " her as completely as if she had been the mother 
of a dozen unruly boys of her own. We rather rejoiced 
in her emancipation when the foolish lad deserted her 
for the delights of freedom, soon after the close of the 
war, but the kind-hearted old lady never ceased to mourn 
over his ingratitude. She was a great beauty in her 
youth, and to the day of her death, in 1866, retained a co- 
quettish regard for appearances, which showed itself in 
a scrupulous anxiety about the set of her cap frills and the 
fit of her prim, but always neat and handsome, black 
gowns. 

It was in the later years of her life, that she came to 
live at Haywood in order to be near my mother, who 
was her niece, and occupied a cottage that was built es- 
pecially for her in a corner of the yard. It was a com- 
mon custom in those days, when the demands of hos- 
pitality outgrew the capacity of the planter's mansion, to 
build one or more cottages near it to receive the overflow, 
and hence, the old-fashioned Southern homestead was of- 
ten more like a small village than an ordinary residence. 
There were two cottages, one on each side of the front 
gate, at Haywood, one occupied by " Aunt Sallie," the 
other built for the use of my married sister, Mrs. Troup 



i8o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Butler, when she came up from the plantation with her 
family to spend the summer. The main residence was 
spoken of as " the big house," or simply, " the house," to 
distinguish it from the other buildings. Including the 
stables and negro quarters, there were, if I remember cor- 
rectly, fourteen buildings, besides " the big house," on the 
grounds at Haywood, and this was not a plantation home 
with its great population of field hands, but a town resi- 
dence, where there were never more than twenty or thirty 
servants to be housed, including children. 

The Irvin Artillery, so frequently alluded to, was the 
first military company organized in the county, and con- 
tained the flower of the youth of the village. It was 
named for a prominent citizen of the town, father of 
the unreconstructible " Charley " mentioned later, and an 
uncle of the unwitting Maria, whose innocent remark 
gave such umbrage to my father's belligerent daughter. 



April 22, Saturday. — I went to bed as soon as I had 
eaten supper last night and never did I enjoy a sweeter 
rest; home beds are cleaner and softer than any others, 
even Mrs. Harris's. I spent the better part of the 
day unpacking and arranging my things. The house 
is so crowded with company that I have had to give 
up my room and double in with Mett. I keep my 
clothes wherever I can find a place for them. We 
went to walk after dinner and found the streets 
swarming with people. Paroled men from Lee's 
army are expected every day now, and the town is 
already as full as it can hold. The only hotel has 
been closed and private hospitality is taxed to the 




^1W 



.*^pN 



■k 






MRS. GARNETT ANDREWS, ne'e ANNULET BALL, 1827 
From an old miniature 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL i8i 

utmost. While we were out, the Toombs girls called 
with John Ficklen and that nice Capt. Thomas we met 
in Milledgeville. 

April 23, Sunday, — Gen. Elzey and staff arrived 
early in the afternoon and called here at once. The 
general has a fine, soldierly appearance and charming 
manners, like all West Pointers — except, of course, 
those brutes like Butler and Sherman and their mur- 
derous clan. Capt. Irwin, Mrs. Elzey's brother, is 
going to stay at our house, and the whole family has 
fallen in love with him at first sight. He is the dear- 
est, jolliest fellow that ever lived, and keeps up his 
spirits under circumstances that would have put down 
even Mark Tapley. His wife and six daughters are 
in the enemy's lines, at Norfolk; six daughters, in 
these awful times! and the father of them can still 
laugh. He has a way of screwing up his face when 
he says anything funny that gives him an indescrib- 
ably comical appearance. This is enhanced by a little 
round bald head, like Santa Claus, the result of a 
singular accident, while he was still a young man. At 
a dinner party given on the occasion of a wedding in 
the family, one of the servants let fall a hot oyster 
pate on top of his head. It blistered the scalp so that 
the hair fell out and never grew back. He must have 
been very good-natured not to assassinate that servant 
on the spot. 

April 24, Monday. — The shattered remains of 
Lee's army are beginning to arrive. There is an end- 



182 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

less stream passing between the transportation office 
and the depot, and trains are going and coming at all 
hours. The soldiers bring all sorts of rumors and 
keep us stirred up in a state of never-ending excite- 
ment. Our avenue leads from the principal street on 
which they pass, and great numbers stop to rest in 
the grove. Emily is kept busy cooking rations for 
them, and pinched as we are ourselves for supplies, it 
is impossible to refuse anything to the men that have 
been fighting for us. Even when they don't ask for 
anything the poor fellows look so tired and hungry 
that we feel tempted to give them everything we have. 
Two nice-looking officers came to the kitchen door this 
afternoon while I was in there making some sorghum 
cakes to send to Gen. Elzey's camp. They then 
walked slowly through the back yard, and seemed re- 
luctant to tear themselves away from such a sweet, 
beautiful place. Nearly everybody that passes the 
street gate stops and looks up the avenue, and I know 
they can't help thinking what a beautiful place it is. 
The Cherokee rose hedge is white with blooms. It is 
glorious. A great many of the soldiers camp in the 
grove, though Col. Weems [the Confederate comman- 
dant of the post] has located a public camping-ground 
for them further out of town. The officers often ask 
for a night's lodging, but our house is always so full of 
friends who have a nearer claim, that a great many 
have to be refused. It hurts my conscience ever to 
turn off a Confederate soldier on any account, but we 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 183 

are so overwhelmed with company — friends and peo- 
ple bringing letters of introduction — that the house, big 
as it is, will hardly hold us all, and members of the 
family have to pack together like sardines. Capt. 
John Nightingale's servant came in this afternoon — 
the " little Johnny Nightingale " I used to play with 
down on the old Tallassee plantation — ^but reports 
that he does not know where his master is. He says 
the Yankees captured him (the negro) and took away 
his master's horse that he was tending, but as soon as 
night came on he made his escape on another horse 
that he " took " from them, and put out for home. 
He says he don't like the Yankees because they 
" didn't show no respec' for his feelin's." He talks 
with a strong salt-water brogue and they laughed at 
him, which he thought very ill-mannered. Father sent 
him round to the negro quarters to wait till his master 
turns up. 

April 25, Tuesday. — Maj. Hall, one of Gen. Elzey*s 
staff, has been taken with typhoid fever, so father 
sent out to the camp and told them to bring him to our 
house, but Mrs. Robertson had a spare room at the 
bank and took him there where he can be better cared 
for than in our house, that is full as an ant-hill already. 
I went round to the bank after breakfast to see Mrs. 
Elzey and inquire about him. The square is so 
crowded with soldiers and government wagons that 
it is not easy to make way through it. It is especially 
difficult around the government offices, where the poor, 



i84 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

ragged, starved, and dirty remnants of Lee's heroic 
army are gathered day and night. The sidewalk along 
there is alive with vermin, and some people say they 
have seen lice crawling along on the walls of the 
houses. Poor fellows, this is worse than facing 
Yankee bullets. These men were, most of them, born 
gentlemen, and there could be no more pitiful evidence 
of the hardships they have suffered than the lack of 
means to free themselves from these disgusting 
creatures. Even dirt and rags can be heroic, some- 
times. At the spring in our grove, where the soldiers 
come in great numbers to wash their faces, and some- 
times, their clothes, lice have been seen crawling in 
the grass, so that we are afraid to walk there. Little 
Washington is now, perhaps, the most important mil- 
itary post in our poor, doomed Confederacy. The 
naval and medical departments have been moved here 
— what there is left of them. Soon all this will give 
place to Yankee barracks, and our dear old Confed- 
erate gray will be seen no more. The men are all 
talking about going to Mexico and Brazil; if all emi- 
grate who say they are going to, we shall have a nation 
made up of women, negroes, and Yankees. 

I joined a party after dinner in a walk out to the 
general camping ground in Cousin Will Pope's woods. 
The Irvin Artillery are coming in rapidly; I suppose 
they will all be here by the end of the week — or what 
is left of them — but their return is even sadder and 
amid bitterer tears than their departure, for now '' we 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 185 

weep as they that have no hope." Everybody is cast 
down and humiHated, and we are all waiting in sus- 
pense to know what our cruel masters will do with us. 
Think of a vulgar plebeian like Andy Johnson, and 
that odious Yankee crew at Washington, lording it 
over Southern gentlemen ! I suppose we shall be sub- 
jected to every indignity that hatred and malice can 
heap upon us. Till it comes, " Let us eat, drink and 
be merry, for to-morrow we die." Only, we have al- 
most nothing to eat, and to drink, and still less to be 
merry about. 

Our whirlwind of a cousin, Robert Ball, has made 
his appearance, but is hurrying on to New Orleans 
and says he has but one day to spend with us. 

The whole world seems to be moving on Washing- 
ton now. An average of 2,000 rations are issued 
daily, and over 15,000 men are said to have passed 
through already, since it became a military post, 
though the return of the paroled men has as yet hardly 
begun. 

April 26, Wednesday. — Gen. Elzey lent his ambu- 
lances, and we had a charming little picnic under the 
management of Capt. Hardy. We left town at seven 
o'clock, before the sun was too hot, and drove to a 
creek ten miles out, where we spent the day in a beauti- 
ful grove, so shady that the sun could not penetrate 
at noon-day. Gen. Elzey and all the staff were there. 
Our amusements were cards, fishing in the creek, 
rambling about through the woods, and sitting in little 

13 



i86 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

circles on the grass, talking about what we are going 
to do under the new order of things. Some comical 
pictures were drawn of our future occupations, and 
we guyed each other a good deal about our prospects. 
I am to take in washing, Mett to raise chickens and 
peddle them in a cart drawn by Dixie; Capt. Irwin is 
to join the minstrels, and Capt. Palfrey to be a dancing 
master — but down in the bottom of our hearts we felt 
that there is likely to be little occasion for laughter 
in the end. The drive home was rather hot and dusty, 
and our enjoyment was damped by the sight of the 
poor soldiers that we met, trundling along the road; 
they looked so weary and ragged and travel-stained. 
Many of them, overcome with fatigue, were lying 
down to rest on the bare ground by the roadside. I 
felt ashamed of myself for riding when they had to 
walk. These are the straggling remnants of those 
splendid armies that have been for four years a terror 
to the North, the glory of the South, and the wonder 
of the world. Alas, alas! 

April 27, Thursday. — Robert Ball left for New Or- 
leans, Mary Day for a short visit to Augusta, and 
Cora returned from there, where she had gone to bid 
farewell to General and Mrs. Fry, who have arranged 
to make their future home in Cuba. The Elzeys and 
many other visitors called during the evening. We 
had a delightful serenade in the night, but Toby kept 
up such a barking that we couldn't half get the good 
of it. Their songs were all about the sea, so I suppose j 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 187 

the serenaders were naval officers. The navy depart- 
ment has been ordered away from here — and Wash- 
ington would seem a very queer location for a navy 
that had any real existence. Capt. Parker sent Lieut. 
Peck this morning with a letter to father and seven 
great boxes full of papers and instruments belonging 
to the department, which he requested father to take 
care of. Father had them stored in the cellar, the 
only place where he could find a vacant spot, and so 
now, about all that is left of the Confederate Navy is 
here in our house, and we laugh and tell father, that 
he, the staunchest Union man in Georgia, is head of 
the Confederate Navy. 

April 28, Friday. — Dr. Aylett, one of the lecturers 
at Bellevue Hospital when Henry was a student there, 
took breakfast with us. He is stone blind, and mak- 
ing his way to Selma, Ala., attended only by a negro 
boy. If the negro should desert, he would be in a 
forlorn plight, though he does seem to have a wonder- 
ful faculty for taking care of himself. I have heard 
Henry say he used to find his way about in New York 
City, with no guide but his stick, as readily as if he had 
had eyes. 

I was busy all the morning helping to get ready for 
a supper that father gave to Gen. Elzey and staff. The 
table was beautiful; it shone like a mirror. There 
were seats for twenty-two, and everything on it solid 
silver, except the cups and saucers and plates, which 
were of beautiful old china that had belonged to 



i88 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Cora's grandmother. But it was all in absurd con- 
trast to what we had to eat. The cake was all made 
of sorghum molasses, and the strawberries were sweet- 
ened with the coarsest kind of brown sugar, but we 
were glad to have even that, and it tasted good to us 
hungry Rebs. Emily was kept so busy all day cooking 
rations for soldiers that she hardly had time for any- 
thing else, and I was so sorry for the poor fellows that 
no matter what I happened to have in my hand, if a 
soldier came up and looked wistfuly at it, I couldn't 
help giving it to him. Some of them, as they talked 
to me about the surrender, would break down and cry 
like children. I took all the lard and eggs mother 
had left out for Emily to cook with and gave to them, 
because I could not bear to see them eating heavy old 
biscuit made of nothing but flour and water. In this 
way a good part of our supper was disposed of before 
we sat down to it, but nobody grudged the loss. In 
spite of his being such a strong Union man, and his 
bitter opposition to secession, father never refuses 
anything to the soldiers. I blame the secession poli- 
ticians myself, but the cause for which my brothers 
risked their lives, the cause for which so many noble 
Southerners have bled and died, and for which such 
terrible sacrifices have been made, is dear to my heart, 
right or wrong. The more misfortunes overwhelm 
my poor country, the more I love it; the more the 
Yankees triumph, the worse I hate them, wretches! 
I would rather be wrong with men like Lee and Davis, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 189 

than right with a lot of miserable oppressors like Stan- 
ton and Thad Stevens. The wrong of disrupting the 
old Union was nothing to the wrongs that are being 
done for its restoration. 

We had a delightful evening, in spite of the clouds 
gathering about us. The Toombses, Popes, Mary 
Wynn, Mr. Saile, and Capt. John Garnett, our Vir- 
ginia cousin, were invited to meet the general and 
staff. Capt. Garnett is one of the handsomest men I 
ever saw, with magnificent black eyes and hair, but 
seems to me wanting in vivacity. I reckon it is be- 
cause he is in love with a frisky widow, who is leading 
him a dance, for the gentlemen all like him, and say 
that he has a great deal of dry humor. We had 
several sets of the Lancers and Prince Imperial, inter- 
spersed with waltzes and galops, and wound up with 
an old-fashioned Virginia reel. Gen. Elzey and I lead- 
ing off. The general is too nice for anything. I told 
Mrs. Elzey that if she hadn't had first chance at him, 
I would fall over head and ears in love with him 
myself. 

April 29, Saturday. — ^Visitors all day, in shoals and 
swarms. Capt. Irwin brought Judge Crump of Rich- 
mond, to stay at our house. He is an ugly old fellow, 
with a big nose, but perfectly delightful in conversa- 
tion, and father says he wishes he would stay a month. 
Capt. Irwin seems very fond of him, and says there 
is no man in Virginia more beloved and respected. He 
is Assistant Secretary of the Treasury or something 



190 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

of the sort, and is wandering about the country with 
his poor barren exchequer, trying to protect what is 
left of it, for the payment of Confederate soldiers. 
He has in charge, also, the assets of some Richmond 
banks, of which he is, or was, president, dum Troja 
fuit. He says that in Augusta he met twenty-five of 
his clerks with ninety-five barrels of papers not worth 
a pin all put together, which they had brought out of 
Richmond, while things of real value were left a prey 
to the enemy. 

April 30, Sunday. — We were all standing under the 
ash tree by the fountain after breakfast, watching the 
antics of a squirrel up in the branches, when Gen. 
Elzey and Touch [name by which the general's son, 
Arnold, a lad of 14, was known among his friends] 
came to tell us that Garnett was wounded in the fight 
at Salisbury, N. C. Mr. Saile brought the news from 
Augusta, but could give no particulars except that his 
wound was not considered dangerous, and that his 
galvanized Yanks behaved badly, as anybody might, 
have known they would. A little 'later the mail 
brought a letter from Gen. Gardiner, his commanding 
officer, entirely relieving our fears for his personal 
safety. He is a prisoner, but will soon be paroled. 
When I came in from church in the afternoon, I found 
Burton Harrison, Mr. Davis's private secretary, 
among our guests. He is said to be engaged to the 
Miss Constance Carey, of whom my old Montgomery 
acquaintance, that handsome Ed Carey, used to talk 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 191 

so much. He came in with Mrs. Davis, who is being 
entertained at Dr. Ficklen's. Nobody knows where 
the President is, but I hope he is far west of this by 
now. All sorts of ridiculous rumors are afloat con- 
cerning him; one, that he passed through town yester- 
day hid in a box marked " specie," might better begin 
with an h. Others, equally reliable, appoint every 
day in the week for his arrival in Washington with a 
bodyguard of 1,000 men, but I am sure he has better 
sense than to travel in such a conspicuous way. Mr, 
Harrison probably knows more about his whereabouts 
than anybody else, but of course we ask no questions. 
Mrs. Davis herself says that she has no idea where 
he is, which is the only wise thing for her to say. The 
poor woman is in a deplorable condition — no home, 
no money, and her husband a fugitive. She says she 
sold her plate in Richmond, and in the stampede from 
that place, the money, all but fifty dollars, was left 
behind. I am very sorry for her, and wish I could do 
something to help her, but we are all reduced to 
poverty, and the most we can do is for those of us who 
have homes to open our doors to the rest. If secession 
were to do over, I expect father's warning voice would 
no longer be silenced by jeers, and I would no more 
be hooted at as the daughter of a " submissionist." 
But I have not much respect for the sort of Union 
men that are beginning to talk big now, and hope my 
father will never turn against his own people like that 
infamous " Committee of Seventeen/' in Savannah. 



192 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Right or wrong, I believe in standing by your own 
people, especially when they are down.* 

May I, Monday. — Crowds of callers all day. The 
Irvin Artillery are back, and it was almost like a re- 
ception, so many of them kept coming in. Capt. 
Thomas called again with Capt. Garnett. They staid 
a long time, and we enjoyed their visit, except for a 
stupid blunder. Capt. Thomas informed us that he 
was a widower, with one child, but he looked so boyish 
that we thought he was joking and treated the matter 
with such levity that we were horribly mortified later, 
when Capt. Garnett told us it was true. I told Mett 
neither of us could ever hope to be stepmother to that 
little boy. 

Men were coming in all day, with busy faces, to 
see Mr. Harrison, and one of them brought news of 
Johnston's surrender, but Mr. Harrison didn't tell any- 
body about it except father, and the rest of us were 
left in ignorance till afternoon when Fred came back 
with the news from Augusta. While we were at 
dinner, a brother of Mrs. Davis came in and called 
for Mr. Harrison, and after a hurried interview with 
him, Mr. Harrison came back into the dining-room 
and said it had been decided that Mrs. Davis would 



* Reference is made above to a meeting held in Savannah a 
short time before by a small number of " loyal " citizens, including 
the mayor and some of the city council, with a view to bringing 
the municipal government into harmony with the Federal author- 
ities. Their action was considered servile and unwarranted, and 
excited great indignation throughout the State. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 193 

leave town to-morrow. Delicacy forbade our asking 
any questions, but I suppose they were alarmed by 
some of the numerous reports that are always flying 
about the approach of the Yankees. Mother called 
on Mrs. Davis this afternoon, and she really believes 
they are on their way here and may arrive at any 
moment. She seemed delighted with her reception 
here, and, to the honor of our town, it can be truly 
said that she has received more attention than would 
have been shown her even in the palmiest days of her 
prosperity. 

The conduct of a Texas regiment in the streets this 
afternoon gave us a sample of the chaos and general 
demoralization that may be expected to follow the 
breaking up of our government. They raised a riot 
about their rations, in which they were joined by all 
the disorderly elements among both soldiers and citi- 
zens. First they plundered the Commissary Depart- 
ment, and then turned loose on the quartermaster's 
stores. Paper, pens, buttons, tape, cloth — everything 
in the building — was seized and strewn about on the 
ground. Negroes and children joined the mob and 
grabbed what they could of the plunder. Col. 
Weems's provost guard refused to interfere, saying 
they were too good soldiers to fire on their comrades, 
and so the plundering went on unopposed. Nobody 
seemed to care much, as we all know the Yankees will 
get it in the end, any way, if our men don't. I was 
at Miss Maria Randolph's when the disturbance began. 



194 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

but by keeping to the back streets I avoided the worst 
of the row, though I encountered a number of strag- 
glers, running away with their booty. The soldiers 
were very generous with their '^ confiscated " goods, 
giving away paper, pens, tape, &c., to anybody they 
happened to meet. One of them poked a handful of 
pen staves at me ; another, staggering under an armful 
of stationery, threw me a ream of paper, saying: 
*' There, take that and write to your sweetheart on it." 
I took no notice of any of them, but hurried on home 
as fast as I could, all the way meeting negroes, chil- 
dren, and men loaded with plunder. When I reached 
home I found some of our own servants with their 
arms full of thread, paper, and pens, which they 
offered to sell me, and one of them gave me several 
reams of paper. I carried them to father, and he col- 
lected all the other booty he could find, intending to 
return it to headquarters, but he was told that there 
is no one to receive it, no place to send it to — in fact, 
there seemed to be no longer any headquarters nor 
any other semblance of authority. Father saved one 
box of bacon for Col. Weems by hauling it away in 
his wagon and concealing it in his smokehouse. All 
of Johnston's army and the greater portion of Lee's 
are still to pass through, and since the rioters have de- 
stroyed so much of the forage and provisions intended 
for their use, there will be great difficulty in feeding 
them. They did not stop at food, but helped them- 
selves to all the horses and mules they needed. A band 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 195 

of them made a raid on Gen. Elzey's camp and took 
nine of his mules. They excused themselves by say- 
ing that all government stores will be seized by the 
Yankees in a few days, any way, if left alone, and our 
own soldiers might as well get the good of them while 
they can. This would be true, if there were not so many 
others yet to come who ought to have their share. 

Our back yard and kitchen have been jfilled all day, 
as usual, with soldiers waiting to have their rations 
cooked. One of them, who had a wounded arm, came 
into the house to have it dressed, and said that he was 
at Salisbury when Garnett was shot and saw him fall. 
He told some miraculous stories about the valorous 
deeds of *' the colonel," and although they were so 
exaggerated that I set them down as apocryphal, I 
gave him a piece of cake, notwithstanding, to pay him 
for telling them. 

May 2, Tuesday. — Mr. Harrison left this morning, 
with a God-speed from all the family and prayers for 
the safety of the honored fugitives committed to his 
charge. 

The disorders begun by the Texans yesterday were 
continued to-day, every fresh band that arrived from 
the front falling into the way of their predecessors. 
They have been pillaging the ordnance stores at the 
depot, in which they were followed by negroes, boys, 
and mean white men. I don't see what people are 
thinking about to let ammunition fall into the hands 
of the negroes, but everybody is demoralized and reck- 



196 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

less and nobody seems to care about anything any 
more. A number of paroled men came into our grove 
where they sat under the trees to empty the cartridges 
they had seized. Confederate money is of no more 
use now than so much waste paper, but by filling their 
canteens with powder they can trade it off along the 
road for provisions. They scattered lead and car- 
tridges all over the ground. Marshall went out after 
they left and picked up enough to last him for years. 
The balls do not fit his gun, but he can remold them 
and draw the powder out of the cartridges to shoot 
with. I am uneasy at having so much explosive ma- 
terial in the house, especially when I consider the 
careless manner in which we have to live. There is 
so much company and so much to do that even the 
servants hardly have time to eat. I never lived in 
such excitement and confusion in my life. Thousands 
of people pass through Washington every day, and 
our house is like a free hotel; father welcomes every- 
body as long as there is a square foot of vacant space 
under his roof. Meeting all these pleasant people is 
the one compensation of this dismal time, and I don't 
know how I shall exist when they have all gone their 
ways, and we settle down in the mournful quiet of sub- 
jugation. Besides the old friends that are turning up 
every day, there is a continual stream of new faces 
crossing my path, and I make some pleasant acquaint- 
ance or form some new friendship every day. The 
sad part of it is that the most of them I will probably 



I 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 197 

never meet again, and if I should, where, and how? 
What will they be? What will I be? These are 
portentous questions in such a time as this. 

We had a larger company to dinner to-day than 
usual, but no one that specially interested me. In 
the afternoon came a poor soldier from Abbeville, with 
a message from Garnett that he was there, waiting 
for father to send the carriage to bring him home. 
He sat on the soft grass before the door, and we fed 
him on sorghum cake and milk, the only things we 
had to offer. I am glad the cows have not been eman- 
cipated, for the soldiers always beg for milk; I never 
saw one that was not eager for it at any time. After 
the soldier, Ed Napier came in, who was a captain in 
Garnett's battalion and was taken prisoner with him. 
He says that Garnett covered himself with glory; even 
the Yankees spoke of his gallantry and admired him. 

It seems as if all the people I ever heard of, or never 
heard of, either, for that matter, are passing through 
Washington. Some of our friends pass on without 
stopping to see us because they say they are too ragged 
and dirty to show themselves. Poor fellows ! if they 
only knew how honorable rags and dirt are now, in 
our eyes, when endured in the service of their country, 
they would not be ashamed of them. The son of the 
richest man in New Orleans trudged through the other 
day, with no coat to his back, no shoes on his feet. 
The town is full of celebrities, and many poor fugi- 
tives, whose necks are in danger^ meet here to concert 



198 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

plans for escape, and I put it in my prayers every 
night that they may be successful. Gen. Wigfall 
started for the West some days ago, but his mules 
were stolen, and he had to return. He is frantic, they 
say, with rage and disappointment. Gen. Toombs 
left to-night, but old Governor Brown, it is said, has 
determined not to desert his post. I am glad he has 
done something to deserve respect, and hope he may 
get off yet, as soon as the Yankees appoint a military 
governor. Clement Clay is believed to be well on his 
way to the Trans-Mississippi, the Land of Promise 
now, or rather the City of Refuge from which it is 
hoped a door of escape may be found to Mexico or 
Cuba. The most terrible part of the war is now to 
come, the " Bloody Assizes." " Kirke's Lambs," in 
the shape of Yankee troopers, are closing in upon us; 
our own disbanded armies, ragged, starving, hopeless, 
reckless, are roaming about without order or leaders, 
making their way to their far-off homes as best they 
can. The props that held society up are broken. 
Everything is in a state of disorganization and tumult. 
We have no currency, no law save the primitive code 
that might makes right. We are in a transition state 
from war to subjugation, and it is far worse than 
was the transition from peace to war. The suspense 
and anxiety in which we live are terrible. 

May 3, Wednesday. — Fred started for Abbeville in 
the carriage to bring Garnett home. We hear now 
that the Yankees are in Abbeville, and, if so, I am 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 199 

afraid they will take the horses away and then I don't 
know how Garnett will get home. They are father's 
carriage horses, and we would be in a sad plight with 
no way to ride. Our cavalry are playing havoc with 
stock all through the country. The Texans are espe- 
cially noted in this respect. They have so far to go 
that the temptation is greater in their case. There is 
hardly a planter in Wilkes County who has not lost 
one or more of his working animals since they began 
to pass through. They seize horses, even when they 
are already well-mounted, and trade them off. They 
broke into Mr. Ben Bowdre's stable and took posses- 
sion of his carriage horses, and helped themselves to 
two from the buggies of quiet citizens on the square. 
Almost everybody I know has had horses stolen or 
violently taken from him. I was walking with Dr. 
Sale in the street yesterday evening, and a soldier 
passed us leading a mule, while the rightful owner 
followed after, wasting breath in useless remon- 
strances. As they passed us, the soldier called out: 
" A man that's going to Texas must have a mule to 
ride, don't you think so, lady ? " I made no answer, 
Dr. Sale gave a doubtful assent. It is astonishing 
what a demoralizing influence association with horses 
seems to exercise over the human race. Put a man 
on horseback and his next idea is to play the bully 
or to steal something. We had an instance of ill- 
behavior at our house last night — the first and only 
one that has occurred among the hundreds — thou- 



200 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL, 

sands, I might almost say, that have stopped at our 
door. Our back yard and kitchen were filled all day 
with parties of soldiers coming to get their rations 
cooked, or to ask for something to eat. Mother kept 
two servants hard at work, cooking for them. While 
we were at supper, a squad of a dozen or more cavalry- 
men rode up and asked for a meal. Every seat at the 
table was filled, and some of the family waiting be- 
cause there was no room for us, so mother told 
mammy to set a table for them on the front piazza, 
and serve them with such as we had ourselves — which 
was nothing to brag on, I must own. They were so 
incensed at not being invited into the house that 
mammy says they cursed her and said Judge Andrews 

was a d d old aristocrat, and deserved to have his 

house burned down. I suppose they were drunk, or 
stragglers from some of the conscript regiments en- 
rolled after the flower of our armies had been deci- 
mated in the great battles. 

We had a good laugh on Capt. Irwin this morning. 
He is counting on the sale of his horse for money to 
carry him home, and seems to imagine that every man 
in a cavalry uniform is a horse thief bent on capturing 
his little nag. A Capt. Morton, of the cavalry, called 
here after breakfast, with a letter of introduction from 
friends, and our dear little captain immediately ran out 
bare-headed, to stand guard over his charger. I don't 
know which laughed most when the situation was ex- 
plained. Capt. Palfrey and Capt. Swett, of Gen. El- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 201 

zey's staff, called later to bid us good-by. They have 
no money, but each was provided with a card of but- 
tons with which they count on buying a meal or two 
on the way. Cousin Liza added to their store a paper 
of pins and Cora another card of buttons. We laughed 
very much at this new kind of currency. 

About noon the town was thrown into the wildest 
excitement by the arrival of President Davis. He is 
traveling with a large escort of cavalry, a very im- 
prudent thing for a man in his position to do, especially 
now that Johnston has surrendered, and the fact that 
they are all going in the same direction to their homes 
is the only thing that keeps them together. He rode 
into town ahead of his escort, and as he was passing by 
the bank, where the Elzeys board, the general and 
several other gentlemen were sitting on the front porch, 
and the instant they recognized him they took off their 
hats and received him with every mark of respect due 
the president of a brave people. When he reined in 
his horse, all the staff who were present advanced to 
hold the reins and assist him to dismount, while Dr. 
and Mrs. Robertson hastened to offer the hospitality of 
their home. About forty of his immediate personal 
friends and attendants were with him, and they were 
all half-starved, having tasted nothing for twenty- four 
hours. Capt. Irwin came running home in great haste 
to ask mother to send them something to eat, as it was 
reported the Yankees were approaching the town from 
two opposite directions closing in upon the President, 

14 



202 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

and it was necessary to hurry him off at once. There 
was not so much as a crust of bread in our house, every- 
•thing available having been given to soldiers. There 
was some bread in the kitchen that had just been baked 
for a party of soldiers, but they were willing to wait, 
and I begged some milk from Aunt Sallie, and by add- 
ing to these our own dinner as soon as Emily could 
finish cooking it, we contrived to get together a very 
respectable lunch. We had just sent it off when the 
president's escort came in, followed by couriers who 
brought the comforting assurance that it was a false 
alarm about the enemy being so near. By this time 
the president's arrival had become generally known, 
and people began flocking to see him; but he went to 
bed almost as soon as he got into the house, and Mrs. 
Elzey would not let him be waked. One of his friends, 
Col. Thorburne, came to our house and went right to 
bed and slept fourteen hours on a stretch. The party 
are all worn out and half-dead for sleep. They travel 
mostly at night, and have been in the saddle for three 
nights in succession. Mrs. Elzey says that Mr. Davis 
does not seem to have been aware of the real danger 
of his situation until he came to Washington, where 
some of his friends gave him a serious talk, and ad- 
vised him to travel with more secrecy and dispatch 
than he has been using. 

Mr. Reagan and Mr. Mallory are also in town, and 
Gen. Toombs has returned, having encountered danger 
ahead, I fear. Judge Crump is back too, with his Con- 







%M 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 203 

federate treasury, containing, it is said, three hundred 
thousand dollars in specie. He is staying at our house, 
but the treasure is thought to be stored in the vault at 
the bank. It will hardly be necessary for him to leave 
the country, but his friends advise him to keep in the 
shade for a time. If the Yankees once get scent of 
money, they will be sure to ferret it out. They have 
already begun their reign of terror in Richmond, by 
arresting many of the prominent citizens. Judge 
Crump is in a state of distraction about his poor little 
wandering exchequer, which seems to stand an even 
chance between the Scylla of our own hungry cavalry 
and the Charybdis of Yankee cupidity. I wish it could 
all be divided among the men whose necks are in dan- 
ger, to assist them in getting out of the country, but I 
don't suppose one of them would touch it. Anything 
would be preferable to letting the Yankees get it. 

Among the stream of travelers pouring through 
Washington, my old friend, Dr. Cromwell, has turned 
up, and is going to spend several days with us. Capt. 
Napier, Col. Walter Weems, Capt. Shaler Smith, and 
Mr. Hallam ate supper with us, but we had no sleeping 
room to offer them except the grass under the trees in 
the grove. Capt. Smith and Mr. Hallam are Ken- 
tuckians, and bound for that illusive land of hope, the 
Trans-Mississippi. They still believe the battle of 
Southern independence will be fought out there and 
won. If faith as a grain of mustard seed can move 
mountains, what ought not faith like this to accomplish ! 



204 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Mr. Hallam is a high-spirited young fellow, and re- 
minds me of the way we all used to talk and feel at 
the beginning of the war. I believe he thinks he could 
fight the whole Yankee nation now, single-handed, and 
whip them, too. He is hardly more than a boy, and 
only a second lieutenant, yet, as he gravely informed 
me, is now the chief ordnance officer of the Confed- 
erate army. He was taken prisoner and made his 
escape without being paroled, and since the surrender 
of Lee's and Johnston's armies, he really is, it seems, 
the ranking ordnance officer in the poor little remnant 
that is still fixing its hope on the Trans-Mississippi. 
They spent the night in the grove, where they could 
watch their horses. It was dreadful that we had not 
even stable room to offer them, but every place in this 
establishment that can accommodate man or beast was 
already occupied. 
^ May 4, Thursday. — I am in such a state of excite- 
ment that I can do nothing but spend my time, like the 
Athenians of old, in either hearing or telling some new 
thing. I sat under the cedar trees by the street gate 
nearly all the morning, with Metta and Cousin Liza, 
watching the stream of human life flow by, and keeping 
guard over the horses of some soldier friends that had 
left them grazing on the lawn. Father and Cora went 
to call on the President, and in spite of his prejudice 
against everybody and everything connected with se- 
cession, father says his manner was so calm and digni- 
fied that he could not help admiring the man. Crowds 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 205 

of people flocked to see him, and nearly all were melted 
to tears. Gen. Elzey pretended to have dust in his 
eyes and Mrs. Elzey blubbered outright, exclaiming all 
the while, in her impulsive way : '* Oh, I am such a fool 
to be crying, but I can't help it ! " When she was 
telling me about it afterwards, she said she could not 
stay in the room with him yesterday evening, because 
she couldn't help crying, and she was ashamed for the 
people who called to see her looking so ugly, with her 
eyes and nose red. She says that at night, after the 
crowd left, there was a private meeting in his room, 
where Reagan and Mallory and other high officials 
were present, and again early in the morning there 
were other confabulations before they all scattered 
and went their ways — and this, I suppose, is the end 
of the Confederacy. Then she made me laugh by tell- 
ing some ludicrous things that happened while the 
crowd was calling. . . . It is strange how closely 
interwoven tragedy and comedy are in life. 

The people of the village sent so many good things 
for the President to eat, that an ogre couldn't have 
devoured them all, and he left many little delicacies, 
besides giving away a number of his personal effects, 
to people who had been kind to him. He requested 
that one package be sent to mother, which, if it ever 
comes, must be kept as an heirloom in the family. I 
don't suppose he knows what strong Unionists father 
and mother have always been, but for all that I am 
sure they would be as ready to help him now, if they 



2o6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

could, as the hottest rebel among us. I was not 
ashamed of father's being a Union man when his was 
the down-trodden, persecuted party; but now, when 
our country is down-trodden, the Union means some- 
thing very different from what it did four years ago. 
It is a great grief and mortification to me that he sticks 
to that wicked old tyranny still, but he is a Southerner 
and a gentleman, in spite of his politics, and at any 
rate nobody can accuse him of self-interest, for he has 
sacrificed as much in the war as any other private 
citizen I know, except those whose children have been 
killed. His sons, all but little Marshall, have been in 
the army since the very first gun — in fact, Garnett was 
the first man to volunteer from the county, and it is 
through the mercy of God and not of his beloved 
Union that they have come back alive. Then, he has 
lost not only his negroes, like everybody else, but his 
land, too. 

The President left town about ten o'clock, with a 
single companion, his unruly cavalry escort having 
gone on before. He travels sometimes with them, 
sometimes before, sometimes behind, never permitting 
his precise location to be known. Generals Bragg and 
Breckinridge are in the village, with a host of minor 
celebrities. Gen. Breckinridge is called the handsom- 
est man in the Confederate army, and Bragg might 
well be called the ugliest. I saw him at Mrs. Vickers's, 
where he is staying, and he looks like an old porcupine. 
I never was a special admirer of his, though it would 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 207 

be a good thing if some of his stringent views about 
discipline could be put into effect just now — if dis- 
cipline were possible among men without a leader, 
without a country, without a hope. The army is 
practically disbanded, and citizens, as well as soldiers, 
thoroughly demoralized. It has gotten to be pretty 
much a game of grab with us all; every man for him- 
self and the Devil (or the Yankees, which amounts to 
the same thing) take the hindmost. Nearly all gov- 
ernment teams have been seized and driven out of 
town by irresponsibile parties — indeed, there seems to 
be nobody responsible for anything any longer. Gen. 
Elzey's two ambulances were taken last night, so that 
Capt. Palfrey and Capt. Swett are left in the lurch, 
and will have to make their way home by boat and 
rail, or afoot, as best they can. 

Large numbers of cavalry passed through town dur- 
ing the day. A solid, unbroken stream of them poured 
past our street gate for two hours, many of them lead- 
ing extra horses. They raised such clouds of dust 
that it looked as if a yellow fog had settled over our 
grove. Duke's division threatened to plunder the 
treasury, so that Gen. Breckinridge had to open it and 
pay them a small part of their stipend in specie. 
Others put in a claim too, and some deserving men got 
a few dollars. Capt. Smith and Mr. Hallam called in 
the afternoon, and the latter showed me ninety dollars 
in gold, which is all that he has received for four years 
of service. I don't see what better could be done with 



208 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the money than to pay it all out to the soldiers of the 
Confederacy before the Yankees gobble it up. 

While we were in the parlor with these and other 
visitors, the carriage drove up with Fred and Garnett 
and Garnett's " galvanized " attendant, Gobin. As 
soon as I heard the sound of wheels coming up the 
avenue, I ran to one of the front windows, and when 
I recognized our carriage, Metta, Cora, and I tore bel- 
ter- ikelter out of the house to meet them. Garnett 
looks very thin and pale. The saber cuts on his head 
are nearly healed, but the wound in his shoulder is 
still very painful. His fingers are partially paralyzed 
from it, but I hope not permanently. Gobin seems 
attached to him and dresses his wounds carefully. He 
is an Irish Yankee, deserted, and came across the lines 
to keep from fighting, but was thrown into prison and 
only got out by enlisting in a " galvanized " regiment. 
I wonder how many of the patriots in the Union army 
have the same unsavory record! He is an incon- 
venient person to have about the house, anyway, 
for he is no better than a servant, and yet we can't 
put him with the negroes. Garnett says the report 
about his galvanized troops having behaved badly 
in the battle was a slander. They fought splendidly, 
he says, and were devoted to their officers. If the 
war had lasted longer, he thinks he could have made 
a fine regiment out of them, but somehow I can't feel 
anything but contempt for that sort of men, nor put 
any faith in them. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 209 

Aunt Sallie invited Mr. Habersham Adams, her 
pastor, and his wife, to dinner, and Cousin Liza, Mary 
Day, Cora, Metta, and me, to help them eat it. She 
had such a dinner as good old Methodist ladies know 
how to get up for their preachers, though where all the 
good things came from. Heaven only knows. She 
must have been hoarding them for months. We ate 
as only hungry Rebs can, that have been half-starved 
for weeks, and expect to starve the rest of our days. 
We have no kind of meat in our house but ham and 
bacon, and have to eat hominy instead of rice, at 
dinner. Sometimes we get a few vegetables out of 
the garden, but everything has been so stripped to feed 
the soldiers, that we never have enough to spread a 
respectable meal before the large number of guests, 
expected and unexpected, who sit down to our table 
every day. In spite of all we can do, there is a look 
of scantiness about the table that makes people afraid 
to eat as much as they want — and the dreadful things 
we have to give them, at that! Cornfield peas have 
been our staple diet for the last ten days. Mother has 
them cooked in every variety of style she ever heard of, 
but they are cornfield peas still. All this would have 
been horribly mortifying a year or two ago, but every- 
body knows how it is now, and I am glad to have even 
cornfield peas to share with the soldiers. Three cavalry 
officers ate dinner at the house while we were at Aunt 
Sallie's. Mother says they were evidently gentlemen, 
but they were so ragged and dirty that she thought the 



2IO THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

poor fellows did not like to give their names. They 
didn't introduce themselves, and she didn't ask who they 
were. Poor Henry is in the same plight, somewhere, 
I reckon. The cavalry are not popular about here just 
now; everybody is crying out against them, even their 
own officers. On their way from Abbeville, Ered and 
Garnett met a messenger with a flag of truce, which 
had been sent out by some (pretended) cavalrymen 
who had plundered a government specie wagon at the 
Savannah River and professed to be hunting for Yan- 
kees to whom they might surrender. Garnett says he 
does not think there are any Yanks within forty miles 
of Abbeville, though as the " grape vine " is our only 
telegraph, we know nothing with certainty. Boys and 
negroes and sportsmen are taking advantage of the 
ammunition scattered broadcast by the pillaging of the 
ordnance stores, to indulge in fireworks of every de- 
scription, and there is so much shooting going on all 
around town that we wouldn't know it if a battle were 
being fought. Capt. Irwin came near being killed this 
afternoon by a stray minie ball shot by some careless 
person. The R.R. depot is in danger of being blown 
up by the quantities of gunpowder scattered about 
there, mixed up with percussion caps. Ered says that 
when he came up from Augusta the other day, the rail- 
road between here and Barnett was strewn w^ith loose 
cartridges and empty canteens that the soldiers had 
thrown out of the car windows. 

I have so little time for writing that I make a dread- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 2U 

ful mess of these pages. I can hardly ever write 
fifteen minutes at a time without interruption. Some- 
times I break off in the middle of a sentence and do 
not return to it for hours, and so I am apt to get every- 
thing into a jumble. And the worst of it is, we are 
living in such a state of hurry and excitement that half 
the time I don't know whether I am telling the truth 
or not. Mother says that she will have to turn the 
library into a bedroom if we continue to have so much 
company, and then I shall have no quiet place to go to, 
and still less time to myself. It seems that the more 
I have to say, the less time I have to say it in. From 
breakfast till midnight I am engaged nearly all the 
time with company, so that the history of each day 
has to be written mostly in the spare moments I can 
steal before breakfast on the next, and sometimes I 
can only scratch down a few lines to be written out at 
length whenever I can find the time. I have been keep- 
ing this diary so long and through so many difficulties 
and interruptions that it would be like losing an old 
friend if I were to discontinue it. I can tell it what 
I can say to no one else, not even to Metta. . . . 
But after all, I enjoy the rush and excitement 
famously. Mett says that she don't enjoy a man's 
society, no matter how nice he is, till she knows him 
well, but I confess that I like change and variety. A 
man that I know nothing about — provided, of course, 
he is a gentleman — is a great deal more interesting to 
me than the people I see every day, just because there 



212 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

is something to find out ; people get to be commonplace 
when you know them too well. 

May 5, Friday. — It has come at last — what we have 
been dreading and expecting so long — what has caused 
so many panics and false alarms — but it is no false 
alarm this time; the Yankees are actually in Washing- 
ton. Before we were out of bed a courier came in 
with news that Kirke — name of ill omen — was only 
seven miles from town, plundering and devastating the 
country. Father hid the silver and what little coin he 
had in the house, but no other precautions were taken. 
They have cried " wolf " so often that we didn't pay 
much attention to it, and besides, what could we do, 
anyway? After dinner we all went to our rooms as 
usual, and I sat down to write. Presently some one 
knocked at my door and said : *' The Yankees have 
come, and are camped in Will Pope's grove." I paid 
no attention and went on quietly with my writing. 
Later, I dressed and went down to the library, where 
Dr. Cromwell was waiting for me, and asked me to go 
with him to call on Annie Pope. We found the streets 
deserted; not a soldier, not a straggler did we see. The 
silence of death reigned where a few hours ago all was 
stir and bustle — and it is the death of our liberty. 
After the excitement of the last few days, the stillness 
was painful, oppressive. I thought of Chateaubriand's 
famous passage : '' Lorsque dans le silence de I'abjec- 
tion " &c. News of the odious arrival seems to have 
spread like a secret pestilence through the country, and 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 213 

travelers avoid the tainted spot. I suppose the re- 
turning soldiers flank us, for I have seen none on the 
streets to-day, and none have called at our house. The 
troops that are here came from Athens., There are 
about sixty-five white men, and fifteen negroes, under 
the command of a Major Wilcox. They say that they 
come for peace, to protect us from our own lawless 
cavalry — to protect us, indeed ! with their negro troops, 
runaways from our own plantations ! I would rather 
be skinned and eaten by wild beasts than beholden to 
them for such protection. As they were marching 
through town, a big buck negro leading a raw-boned 
jade is said to have made a conspicuous figure in the 
procession. Respectable people were shut up in their 
houses, but the little street urchins imrnediately began 
to sing, when they saw the big black Sancho and his 
Rosinante : 

" Yankee Doodle went to town and stole a little pony ; 
He stuck a feather in his crown and called him Macaroni." 

They followed the Yanks nearly to their camping 
ground at the Mineral Spring, singing and jeering at 
the negroes, and strange to say, the Yankees did not 
offer to molest them. I have not laid eyes on one of 
the creatures myself, and they say they do not intend 
to come into the town unless to put down disturbances 
— ^the sweet, peaceful lambs! They never sacked Co- 
lumbia; they never burnt Atlanta; they never left a 
black trail of ruin and desolation through the whole 



214 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

length of our dear old Georgia! No, not they! I 
wonder how long this sugar and honey policy is to 
continue. They deceive no one with their Puritani- 
cal hypocrisy, bringing our own runaway negroes here 
to protect us. Next thing they will have a negro 
garrison in the town for our benefit. Their odious 
old flag has not yet been raised in the village, and I 
pray God they will have the grace to spare us that 
insult, at least until Johnston's army has all passed 
through. The soldiers will soon return to their old 
route of travel, and there is no telling what our boys 
might be tempted to do at the sight of that emblem of 
tyranny on the old courthouse steeple, where once 
floated the " lone star banner " that Cora and I made 
with our own hands — the first rebel flag that was ever 
raised in Washington. Henry brought us the cloth, 
and we made it on the sly in Cora's room at night, 
hustling it under the bed, if a footstep came near, for 
fear father or mother might catch us and put a stop to 
our work. It would break my heart to see the emblem 
of our slavery floating in its place. Our old liberty 
pole is gone. Some of the Irvin Artillery went one 
night before the Yankees came, and cut it down and 
carried it off. It was a sad night's work, but there 
was no other way to save it from desecration. 

Gen. Elzey, Col. Weems, and several other leading 
citizens went to the Yankee camp soon after they ar- 
rived to see about making arrangements for feeding 
the paroled men who are still to pass through, and to 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 215 

settle other matters of public interest. It was reported 
that father went with them to surrender the town, but 
it was a slander; he has not been near them. Garnett's 
galvanized Yank immediately fraternized with them, 
and Garnett is going to send him away to-morrow. 
Gen. Elzey looks wretched, and we all feel miserable 
enough. 

When Capt. Irwin came home to supper, he told me 
that he had been trying to draw forage from the Con- 
federate stores for his horse, but could not get any 
because it was all to be turned over to the new masters. 
He was so angry that he forgot himself and let out a 
'' cuss word " before he thought, right in my presence. 
And I wouldn't let him apologize. I told him I was 
glad he did it, because I couldn't swear myself and it 
was a relief to my feelings to hear somebody else do it. 
While we were talking, old Toby's bark announced a 
visitor, who turned out to be Capt. Hudson. Metta 
brought out her guitar, and she and Garnett tried to 
sing a little, but most of the evening was spent in quiet 
conversation. It seemed hard to realize, as we sat 
there talking peacefully in the soft moonlight, sur- 
rounded by the dear old Confederate uniforms, that 
the enemy is actually in our midst. But I realized it 
only too fully when I heard the wearers of the uni- 
forms talk. They do not whine over their altered 
fortunes and ruined prospects, but our poor ruined 
country, the slavery and degradation to which it is 
reduced — they grow pathetic over that. We have a 



2i6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

charming circle of friends round us now. Judge 
Crump, especially, is one of the most entertaining men 
I ever knew. He has traveled a great deal and I was 
very much interested in his account of Dickens's wife, 
whom he knows well. He says that she is altogether 
the most unattractive woman he ever met. She has a 
yellowish, cat-like eye, a muddy complexion, dull, 
coarse hair of an undecided color, and a very awkward 
person. On top of it all she is, he says, one of the most 
intolerably stupid women he ever met. He has had to 
entertain her for hours at a time and could never get 
an idea out of her nor one into her. Think of such 
a wife for Dickens! 

Porter Alexander has got home and brings discour- 
aging reports of the state of feeling at the North. 
After he was paroled he went to see the Brazilian 
minister at Washington to learn what the chances were 
of getting into the Brazilian army. He says he met 
with very little encouragement and had to hurry away 
from Washington because, since Lincoln's assassina- 
tion the feeling against Southerners has grown so 
bitter that he didn't think it safe to stay there. He 
says the generality of the people at the North were 
disposed to receive the Confederate officers kindly, but 
since the assassination the whole country is embittered 
against us — very unjustly, too, for they have no right 
to lay upon innocent people the crazy deed of a mad- 
man. 

The Yankee papers are now accusing Mr. Davis and 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 217 

his party of appropriating all the money in the Con- 
federate Treasury to their own use, but thank Heaven, 
everybody in Washington can refute that slander. The 
treasury was plundered here, in our midst, and I saw 
some of the gold, with my own eyes, in the hands of 
Confederate soldiers — right where it ought to be. 

The talk now is, judging from the ease with which 
Breckinridge was allowed to slip through this morning, 
that the military authorities are conniving at the escape 
of Mr. Davis. Breckinridge, when he found that the 
Philistines were about to be upon him, used a carefully 
planned stratagem of war to deceive Wilcoxson, by 
which he imagined that he gained time to destroy his 
papers and give him the slip, while in reality, they say, 
the Yanks were making no effort to detain him, and 
he might have gone openly with his papers unmolested. 
The general belief is that Grant and the military men, 
even Sherman, are not anxious for the ugly job of 
hanging such a man as our president, and are quite 
willing to let him give them the slip, and get out of the 
country if he can. The military men, who do the 
hard and cruel things in war, seem to be more merciful 
in peace than the politicians who stay at home and do 
the talking. 



15 



2i8 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 



CHAPTER V 

IN THE DUST AND ASHES OF DEFEAT 

May 6 — June i, 1865 

Explanatory Note. — The circumstances under which 
this part of the diary were written now belong to the 
world's history, and need no explanation here. The bit- 
terness that pervades its pages may seem regrettable to 
those who have never passed through the like experiences, 
but if the reader will " uncentury " himself for a moment 
and try to realize the position of the old slaveholders, a 
proud and masterful race, on seeing bands of their former 
slaves marching in triumph through their streets, he may 
perhaps understand our feelings sufficiently to admit that 
they were, to say the least, not unnatural. 

And let me here repeat what I have tried to make clear 
from the beginning, that this book is not offered to the 
public as an exposition of the present attitude of the 
writer or her people, nor as a calm and impartial history 
of the time with which it deals. It is rather to be com- 
pared to one of those fossil relics gathered by the geologist 
from the wrecks of former generations ; a simple foot- 
print, perhaps, or a vestige of a bone, which yet, imper- 
fect and of small account in itself, conveys to the prac- 
ticed eye a clearer knowledge of the world to which it 
belonged than volumes of learned research. 

The incident about the flag with which the chapter 
opens, and other similar ones related further on, may per- 
haps give pain to some brave men who fought with honor 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 219 

under it. For this I am sorry, but the truth is the truth, 
and if the flag of our country has sometimes been dis- 
honored in the hands of unworthy men, there is all the 
more reason why the sons of those who fought honorably 
and conscientiously on both sides should unite in closer 
fellowship to wipe out the stains put on it by fratricidal 
hate, and see that the light of its stars shall never again 
be dimmed by any act that the heart of a true American 
cannot be proud of. 



May 6, Saturday. — The mournful silence of yester- 
day has been succeeded by noise and confusion passing 
anything we have yet experienced. Reen for cements 
have joined Wilcox, and large numbers of Stoneman's 
and Wilson's cavalry are passing through on their way 
to Augusta. Confederate soldiers, too, are beginning 
to come by this route again, so Washington is now a 
thoroughfare for both armies. Our troops do not come 
in such numbers as formerly, still there have been a 
great many on the streets to-day. About noon, two 
brigades of our cavalry passed going west, and at the 
same time a body of Yankees went by going east. 
There were several companies of negroes among them, 
and their hateful old striped rag was floating in tri- 
umph over their heads. Cousin Liza turned her back 
on it, Cora shook her fist at it, and I was so enraged 
that I said I wished the wind would tear it to flinders 
and roll it in the dirt till it was black all over, as the 
colors of such a crew ought to be. Then father took 
me by the shoulder and said that if I didn't change my 



220 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

way of talking about the flag of my country he would 
send me to my room and keep me there a week. We 
had never known anything but peace and security and 
protection under that flag, he said, as long as we re- 
mained true to it. I wanted to ask him what sort of 
peace and protection the people along Sherman's line 
of march had found under it, but I didn't dare. Father 
don't often say much, but when he does flare up like 
that, we all know we have got to hold our tongues or 
get out of the way. It made me think of that night 
when Georgia seceded. What would father have done 
if he had known that that secession flag was made in 
his house ? It pinches my conscience, sometimes, when 
I think about it. What a dreadful thing it is for a 
household to be so divided in politics as we are ! Father 
sticks to the Union through thick and thin, and mother 
sticks to father, though I believe she is more than half 
a rebel at heart, on account of the boys. Fred and 
Garnett are good Confederates, but too considerate of 
father to say much, while all the rest of us are red- 
hot Rebs. Garnett is the coolest head in the family, 
and Henry the hottest. I used to sympathize with 
father myself, in the beginning, for it did seem a pity 
to break up a great nation about a parcel of African 
savages, if we had known any other way to protect our 
rights; but now, since the Yankees have treated us so 
abominably, burning and plundering our country and 
bringing a gang of negro soldiers here to insult us, I 
don't see how anybody can tolerate the sight of their 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 221 

odious old flag again. To do father justice, our house 
is so far from the street that he couldn't see the plunder 
with which the wretches, both black and white, were 
loaded, but Cousin Mary Cooper, who lives right on 
the street, opposite our gate, told us that she saw one 
white man with a silver cake basket tied to the pommel 
of his saddle, and nearly all of them had stolen articles 
dangling from the front of their saddles, or slung on 
in bags behind. And yet, they blame us for not re- 
specting their flag, when we see it again for the first 
time in four years, floating over scenes like this! 

A large body of the brigands are camped back of 
Aunty's meadow, and have actually thrown the dear 
old lady, who was never known to speak a cross word 
to anybody, into a rage, by their insolence. Capt. 
Hudson had almost to kick one of them out of the 
house before he could get him to move, and the rascal 
cried out, as he went down the steps : " I thought you 
Rebs were all subjugated now, and I could go where I 
pleased." Another taunted her by saying : *' You 
have got plenty of slaves to wait on you now, but you 
won't have them long." They tried to buy provisions 
of her, but she told them that everything she had to 
spare was for our own soldiers, and would not let them 
have a mouthful. Mr. Hull [her son-in-law] had to 
ask for a guard from the commanding officer to pro- 
tect the family. They have their patrols all over the 
town, and I can hear their insolent songs and laughter 
whenever I stop talking long enough to listen. Our 



222 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

house is so far back from the street that we suffer ' 
comparatively little. Two men in blue came up and 
asked for supper while we were sitting on the piazza 
after tea, but nobody took any notice of them. Mother 
had been so busy all day getting up extra meals for 
our own men, and was so utterly fagged out that she 
did not even look up to see who they were. We didn't 
tell her, for fear father might hear and want us to give 
them something, and they went away. Gen. Yorke is 
with us now, and a body of his men are camped in the 
grove. He is a rough old fellow, but has a brave 
record, and wears an empty sleeve. They say he was 
the richest man in Louisiana '* before the deluge " — 
owned 30,000 acres of land and 900 negroes, besides 
plantations in Texas — and now, he hasn't money 
enough to pay his way home. He is very fond of 
cigarettes, and I keep both him and Capt. Hudson sup- 
plied with them. The captain taught me how to roll 
them, and I have become so skilful that I can make 
them like we used to knit socks, without looking at 
what I am doing. 

Gen. Elzey called after tea, and I failed to recognize 
him at first, because he had on a white jacket, and there 
is such a strange mixture of Yanks and Rebs in town 
that I am suspicious of every man who doesn't wear a 
gray coat. The moon was shining in my eyes and 
blinded me as I met the general at the head of the 
steps, and I kept a sour face, intended for a possible 
Yankee intruder, till he caught my hand and spoke; 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 223 

then wc both laughed. Our laughter, however, was 
short-lived ; we spent a miserable evening in the beauti- 
ful moonlight that we knew was shining on the ruin 
of our country. Capt. Irwin made heroic efforts to 
keep up his spirits and cheer the rest of us, but even 
he failed. Gen. Yorke, too, did his best to laugh at 
our miserable little jokes, and told some good stories of 
his own, but they fell flat, like the captain's. Judge 
Crump tried to talk of literature and art, but conversa- 
tion flagged and always returned to the same miserable 
theme. Gen. Elzey said he wished that he had been 
killed in battle. He says that this is the most miserable 
day of his life, and he looked it. It is very hard on 
the West Point men, for they don't know anything but 
soldiering, and the army is closed to them: they have 
no career before them. 

There is a brigade of Kentucky cavalry camped out 
in Mr. Wiley's grove, and some fear is felt of a colli- 
sion between them and the Yankees. Some of them 
have already engaged in fist fights on their own ac- 
count. I wish they would get into a general row, for 
I believe the Kentuckians would whip them. I am 
just exasperated enough to be reckless as to conse- 
quences. Think of a lot of negroes being brought here 
to play the master over us ! 

I was walking on the street this afternoon with Mr. 
Dodd and a Lieut. Sale, from Ark., when we met three 
gorgeous Yankee officers, flaunting their smart new 
uniforms in the faces of our poor, shabby Rebs, but I 



224 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

would not even look their way till they had passed and 
couldn't see me. Oh, how I do love the dear old Con- 
federate gray ! My heart sickens to think that soon I 
shall have seen the last of it. The Confederate officers 
who have been stationed here are leaving, as fast as 
they can find the means, for their homes, or for the 
Trans-Mississippi, where some of them still base their 
hopes. Of those that remain, some have already laid 
aside their uniforms and their military titles. They 
say they are not going to wait to be deprived of them 
at the command of a Yankee. 

Dr. Cromwell left this morning for his home in 
Columbus. He has a horse to ride, but not a cent of 
money to buy provisions. Cousin Liza gave him let- 
ters to some friends of hers that live along his route, 
requesting them to entertain him. He and Capt. Irwin 
have traced out a relationship, both being lineal de- 
scendants of the famous old Lord Protector. How it 
would make the old Puritan snort, if he could rise out 
of his grave and behold two of his descendants stanch 
members of the Episcopal Church, and rollicking cava- 
liers both, fighting for the South against the Round- 
heads of the North ! Dr. Cromwell says that his father 
bears a striking likeness to the portrait of old Noll, 
barring the famous wart on his nose. He has rela- 
tions in Georgia who go by the name of Crowell. Pru- 
dence led them to drop the m while making the voyage 
to America, and they have never taken it back into 
their name. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 225 

While we were at dinner Mrs. Combs [companion 
to Aunt Sallie] came rushing in to say that there was 
a man in the grove trying to steal one of father's car- 
riage horses. We had seen three horsemen ride to 
the spring, and the most natural thing to expect was 
that when they went away, some of our own horses 
would be missing. The gentlemen all grabbed their 
pistols and went out to meet the supposed marauders, 
while we ladies left our soup to get cold and ranged 
ourselves on the piazza to witness the combat. But, 
oh, most lame and impotent conclusion ! not a shot was 
fired. The three cavalrymen were sleeping quietly in 
the shade, and the horse-thief turned out to be nobody 
but 'Ginny Dick * catching the pony for father. 

May 7, Sunday. — I went to the Baptist church and 
heard a good sermon from Mr. Tupper on the text: 
*' For now we live by faith, and not by sight." There 
was not a word that could give the Yankees a handle 
against us, yet much that we poor rebels could draw 
comfort from. The congregation was very small, and 
I am told the same was the case at all the other 
churches, people not caring to have their devotions dis- 
turbed by the sight of the '* abomination of desola- 
tion " in their holy places. 

The streets are frightfully dusty. A passing car- 

* Where several negroes on a plantation had the same name, it 
was customary to distinguish them by some descriptive epithet. 
For instance, among my father's servants, there were Long Dick, 
Little Dick, Big Dick, and 'Ginny Dick— the last of whom owed 
his sobriquet to the fact that he had been purchased in Virginia. 



226 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

riage will almost suffocate one. When the first batch 
of Yankees entered Washington, one of them was 
heard to say : " We have been hunting for this little 
mudhole the last six months." No wonder they didn't 
succeed; it is anything but a mudhole now. 

Fred has just returned from Greensborough [Ga.], 
where he went to look after some horses and wagons 
of Brother Troup's department, but both had been 
seized by our soldiers. I am glad they got them in- 
stead of the Yanks. It is a case of cheating the devil. 
He says the Yankees are plundering right and left 
around Athens. They ran a train off the track on 
the Athens Branch, and robbed the passengers. They 
have not given any trouble in Washington to-day, as 
the greater part of the cavalry that came to town on 
Saturday have passed on, and the garrison, or provost 
guard, or whatever the odious thing is called, are 
probably afraid to be too obstreperous while so many 
Confederate troops are about. They have taken up 
their quarters in the courthouse now, but have not yet 
raised their old flaring rag on the spot where our own 
brave boys placed the first rebel flag, that my own 
hands helped to make. I wish our troops would get 
into a fracas with them and thrash them out of town. 
Since they have set a price on the head of our presi- 
dent, " immortal hate and study of revenge " have 
taken possession of my heart, and it don't make me 
love them or their detestable old flag any better because 
I have to keep my feelings pent up. Father won't 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 227 

let me say anything against the old flag in his presence, 
but he can't keep me from thinking and writing what 
I please. I believe I would burst sometimes, if I didn't 
have this safety-valve. He may talk about the way 
Union men were suppressed when they tried to oppose 
secession, but now, the Yankees are denying us not 
only liberty of speech and of the press, but even of 
prayer, forcing the ministers in our Church to read the 
prayer for their old renegade of a president and those 
other odious persons " in authority " at Washington. 
Well, as Bishop Elliot says, I don't know anybody 
that needs it more. 

But even if father does stick to the Union, no- 
body can accuse him of being a sycophant or say that 
he is not honest in his opinions. He was no less a 
Union man in the days of persecution and danger 
for his side than he is now. And though he still 
holds to his love for the Union — if there is any such 
thing — ^he has made no indecent haste, as some others 
have done, to be friends with the Yankees, and he 
seeks no personal advantage from them. He has 
said and done nothing to curry favor with them, or 
draw their attention to his '' loyalty," and he has not 
even hinted to us at the idea of paying them any social 
attentions. Poor father, it is his own house, but he 
knows too well what a domestic hurricane that would 
raise, and though he does storm at us sometimes, when 
we say too much, as if he was going to break the head 
of the last one of us, he is a dear, good, sweet, old 



228 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

father, after all, and I am ashamed of myself for my 
undutiful conduct to him. I know I deserve to have 
my head cracked, but oh! I do wish that he was on 
our side ! He is too good a man to be in the same po- 
litical boat with the wretches that are plundering and 
devastating our country. He was right in the begin- 
ning, when he said that secession was a mistake, and it 
would be better to have our negroes freed in the Union, 
if necessary, than out of it, because in that case, it 
would be done without passion, and violence, and we 
would get compensation for them — but now the thing 
is done, and there is no use talking about the right or 
the wrong of it. I sympathize with the spirit of that 
sturdy old heathen I have read about somewhere, who 
said to the priests who were trying to convert him, that 
he would rather stick to his own gods and go to hell 
with his warrior ancestors, than sit down to feast in 
heaven with their little starveling band of Christians. 
That is the way I feel about Yankees; I would rather 
be wrong with Lee and his glorious army than right 
with a gang of fanatics that have come down here to 
plunder and oppress us in the name of liberty. 

The Elzeys and other friends called after tea, and 
we spent another half-happy, half-wretched evening 
on the moonlit piazza. Even these pleasant reunions 
make me sad because I know they must soon come to 
an end. Since the war began, I have made friends 
only to lose them. Dear Mrs. Elzey is like a gleam of 
sunshine on a rainy day. She pitches into the Yan- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 229 

kees with such vigor, and says such funny things about 
them, that even father has to laugh. Capt. Irwin is a 
whole day of sunshine himself, but even his happy 
temper is so dimmed by sadness that his best jokes 
fall flat for want of the old spirit in telling them. 
Gen. Yorke and his train left this morning. Fred is to 
meet him in Augusta to-morrow and go as far as 
Yazoo City with him, to look after father's Mississippi 
plantation, if anything is left there to look after. The 
general went off with both pockets full of my cigar- 
ettes, and he laughingly assured me that he would 
think of me at least as long as they lasted. 

May 8, Monday. — We had a sad leave-taking at 
noon. Capt. Irwin, finding it impossible to get trans- 
portation to Norfolk by way of Savannah, decided last 
night that he would start for Virginia this morning 
with Judge Crump. He has no money to pay his way 
with, but like thousands of other poor Confederates, 
depends on his war horse to carry him through, and 
on Southern hospitality to feed and lodge him. He 
left his trunk, and Judge Crump his official papers, in 
father's care. Mother packed up a large quantity of 
provisions for them, and father gave them letters to 
friends of his all along the route, through Georgia and 
Carolina, as far as his personal acquaintance extends. 
Our avenue was alive all the morning with Confeder- 
ates riding back and forth to bid their old comrades 
good-by. The dear captain tried to keep up a brave 
heart, and rode off with a jest on his lips and moisture 



230 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

in his eyes, while as for us — we ladies all broke down 
and cried like children. The dear old Judge, too, 
seemed deeply moved at parting, and we could do noth- 
ing but cry, and nobody could say what we wanted to. 
Partings are doubly sad now, when the chances of 
meeting again are so few. We shall all be too poor 
to travel, and too poor to extend the hospitality for 
which our Southern homes have been noted, any more. 
The pinch of want is making itself felt more severely 
every day, and we haven't the thought that we are 
suffering for our country that buoyed us up 
during the war. Men with thousands of Confed- 
erate money in their pockets cannot buy a pin. 
Father has a little specie which he was prudent 
enough to lay aside at the beginning of the war, 
but he has given a good deal of it to the boys at differ- 
ent times, when they were hard up, and the little that 
is left will have to be spent with the greatest care, to 
feed our family. I could not even pay postage on a 
letter if it were necessary to write one. I have serious 
notions of trying to sell cigarettes to the Yankees in 
order to get a little pocket money, — only, I could not 
bear the humiliation. 

Part of the regiment that plundered the train on the 
Athens Branch has been sent to Washington, and is 
behaving very badly. Aunt Cornelia's guard, too, re- 
fused to stay with her any longer because he was not 
invited to eat at the table with the family ! Others of 
the company then went there and committed all sorts 



OF A GEORCxIA GIRL 231 

of depredations on the lot. They cursed Aunty and 
threatened to burn the house down, and one of them 
drew a pistol on Mr. Hull for interfering, but promptly 
took to his heels when Mr. Hull returned the civility. 
He soon came back with several of his comrades and 
made such threats that Aunty sent to their commanding 
officer and asked for a guard, but received for 
answer that '' they would guard her to hell." Capt. 
Hudson then went to the provost-marshal in 
command of the town, Capt. Lot Abraham, who 
sent a lieutenant with another guard. Aunty com- 
plained to the lieutenant of the way she had been 
insulted, but he replied that the guard might stay or 
not, as he chose; that she had not treated the former 
one with proper consideration, and he would not com- 
pel another to stay in her house. Aunty was ready to 
choke with rage, she says, but dared not speak a word, 
and now the family have to purchase safety by having 
a horrid plebeian of a Yankee, who is fitter company 
for the negroes in the kitchen, sit at the table with 
them. The whole family are bursting with indigna- 
tion, but dare not show it for fear of having their 
house burned over their heads. They spoke in whis- 
pers while telling me about it, and I was so angry that 
I felt as if I woiild like to run a knitting needle into 
the rascal, who sat lolling at his ease in an armchair 
on the piazza, looking as insolent as if he were the 
master of the house. It is said we are to have a negro 
garrison in Washington, and all sorts of horrible ru- 



232 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

mors are afloat. But we know nothing except what 
the tyrants choose that we shall. The form of parole 
has been changed so that none of our officers are will- 
ing to take it, and many of them slip through in the 
night and make their escape without being paroled 
at all. 

Johnston's army is pouring in now. People are 
getting used to the presence of the Yankees, and Wash- 
ington is a great thoroughfare for Confederates once 
more. Lee's men used up all the breadstuffs in the 
commissariat, so the newcomers have to depend on 
private hospitality. The Yankees say they can't collect 
corn and flour to replace what was destroyed during 
the riots. They give out rations of meat, but nothing 
else, and it is pitiful to see the poor fellows going about 
the streets offering to exchange part of their scanty 
ration of bacon for bread. Numbers of them come to 
our door every day, begging for bread, and it almost 
makes me cry when a poor fellow sometimes pulls 
out a piece of rancid bacon from his haversack and 
offers it in pay. Mother will never take anything from 
a soldier, and we always share what little we have 
with them. It gives me more pleasure to feed the 
poor Rebs than to eat myself. I go out and talk 
with them frequently, while they are waiting to 
have their food cooked. This evening, two of them 
were sitting on the front steps talking over their 
troubles, and I heard one of them say: ''If I kin 
just git back home to Sally once more, I won't care 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 233 

about nothin' else." He was young, I could see, 
through all the dirt and grime on his face, so I sup- 
pose " Sally " was either his sweetheart, or the young 
bride he left when he went away to the war. Some 
of our Confederates wear a dark, bluish-gray uniform 
which is difficult to distinguish from the Federal 
blue, and I live in constant fear of making a mistake. 
As a general thing our privates have no uniform but 
rags, poor fellows, but the officers sometimes puzzle 
me, unless they wear the Hungarian knot on their 
sleeves. It makes the letters, C.S.A., but one would 
not be apt to notice the monogram unless it was pointed 
out to him. It is a beautiful uniform, and I shall al- 
ways love the colors, gray and gold, for its sake — or 
rather for the sake of the men who wore it. There 
is a report that Confederate officers are going to be 
ordered to lay aside their uniforms. It will be a black 
day when this habit that we all love so well gives place 
to the badge of servitude. There is nothing in the 
history of nations to compare with the humiliations we 
Southerners have to endure. 

Brother Troup and Mr. Forline came in to-day. 
Fred was left by the train this afternoon and will make 
another start to-morrow, in company with Mr. For- 
line. He is very anxious to reach Yazoo City, to save 
some of father's property in the Yazoo Bottom, if he 
can, but I am afraid there is nothing left to save. 
They hope to get transportation with a Kentucky regi- 
ment that is going by way of Savannah to Baltimore 
16 



234 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

or New York — a rather roundabout way to reach 
Mississippi, but better than footing it overland in 
the present disturbed state of the country. 

May 9, Tuesday. — Ladies are beginning to visit a 
little, though the streets are as crowded and dusty as 
ever. Johnston's men are coming through in full tide, 
and there is constant danger of a collision between 
them and the Yankees. There are four brigades of 
cavalry camped on the outskirts of town waiting to be 
paroled. Contrary to their agreement with Lee and 
Johnston, the Yankees now want to deprive these men 
of their horses and side arms, and refuse to parole 
them until they are dismounted and disarmed. Our 
men refuse to submit to such an indignity and vow 

they will kill every '' d d Yankee " in Washington 

rather than suffer such a perfidious breach of faith. 
Lot Abraham, or " Marse Lot," as we call him, seems 
to be a fairly good sort of a man for a Yankee, and 
disposed to behave as well as the higher powers will 
let him. He has gone to Augusta with Gen. Vaughan, 
who is in command of one of the refractory brigades, 
to try to have the unjust order repealed. If he does 
not succeed, we may look out for hot times. The 
Yankees have only a provost guard here at present, 
and one brigade of our men could chop them to mince 
meat. I almost wish there would be a fight. It would 
do my heart good to see those ruffians who insulted 
Aunty thrashed out, though I know it would be the 
worse for us in the end. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 23s 

I have been exchanging experiences with a good 
many people, and find that we have fared better than 
most of our friends, on account, I suppose, of our re- 
tired situation, and the distance of our house from the 
street. While Gen. Stacy's men were camped out at 
the mineral spring, he made his headquarters at Mrs. 
James DuBose's house, and permitted his negro troops 
to have the freedom of the premises, even after Mrs. 
DuBose had appealed to him for protection. They go 
into people's kitchens and try to make the other negroes 
discontented and disobedient. Some of the girls who 
live near the street tell me they don't venture to open 
their pianos, because if they begin to play, they are lia- 
ble to be interrupted by Yankee soldiers intruding 
themselves into the parlor to hear the music. People 
are very much exasperated, but have no redress. Our 
soldiers are likely to raise a row with them at any 
time, but it would do no good. Yesterday, they gave 
the garrison a scare by pretending to storm their quar- 
ters in the courthouse. They say the Yankees are very 
uneasy, and sing small whenever a big troop of our 
men arrive, though they grow very impertinent in the 
intervals. Our little town has witnessed only the sad- 
dest act of the war — the dissolution of the Confederate 
Government and the dispersal of our armies. The 
Yankees are gathering up all the wagons and stores 
that belonged to our government for their own use. 
The remains of our poor little treasury have also been 
handed over to them. I am sorry now that our 



236 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

cavalry didn't complete their job and get the whole of 
it. It seems hard that the supplies contributed out of 
our necessities during these four years of privation for 
the support of our own government, should go now to 
fill the pockets of our oppressors. 

The negroes, thus far, have behaved fairly well, 
except where they have been tampered with. Not one 
of father's has left us, and they are just as humble 
and obedient as ever. On Sunday, a good many run- 
aways came in from the country but their loving 
brothers in blue sent them back — not from any regard 
for us or our institutions, but because they prefer to 
have their pets fed by their masters until their plans 
for emancipation are complete. They kept some of 
the likeliest of the men who went to them, as servants; 
and refused to give them up when the owners called 
for them. Ben Harden, a giant of a country squire, 
exasperated at their refusal to restore one of his rhen, 
stepped in amongst them, collared the negro, and gave 
him a thrashing on the spot. There were so many 
Confederate soldiers on the square, watching the fra- 
cas, that the little handful of a garrison didn't venture 
to interfere, and he carried his negro off home un- 
opposed. 

Mrs. Elzey took tea with us. The general and Capt. 
Hudson have gone to Augusta to try to raise money 
to take them home. The general is going to sell all 
his horses, even his favorite war horse, Nell, named 
for his wife. 



I 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 237 

May 10, Wednesday. — Harry Day came over from 
Macon looking very pale and ill. He brought letters 
from our Macon friends. Since Confederate money 
and Confederate postage stamps have " gone up," 
most of us are too poor to indulge in corresponding 
with friends except by private hand, and besides, the 
mails are so uncertain that one does not feel safe in 
trusting them. We have had no mail at all for several 
days and rumor has it that the Augusta post office has 
been closed by order of the commanding officer, but 
nobody knows anything for certain. Our masters do 
not let us into their plans, and we can only wait in 
suspense to see what they will do next. The " Con- 
stitutionalist " has been suppressed because it uttered 
sentiments not approved by the conquerors. And yet, 
they talk about Russian despotism ! Even father can't 
find any excuse for such doings, though he says this 
is no worse than the suppression of Union papers at 
the beginning of the war by Secession violence. But 
I think the sporadic acts of excited mobs don't carry 
the same weight of responsibility, and are not nearly 
so dangerous to the liberties of a country, as the en- 
croachments of an established government. 

The hardest to bear of all the humiliations yet put 
upon us, is the sight of Andy Johnson's proclamation 
offering rewards for the arrest of Jefferson Davis, 
Clement C. Clay, and Beverly Tucker, under pretense 
that they were implicated in the assassination of Abra- 
ham Lincoln. It is printed in huge letters on hand- 



238 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

bills and posted in every public place in town — a flam- 
ing insult to every man, woman, and child in the vil- 
lage, as if they believed there was a traitor among us 
so base as to betray the victims of their malice, even if 
we knew where they were. If they had posted one of 
their lying accusations on our street gate, I would tear 
it down with my own hands, even if they sent me to 
jail for it. But I am sure that father would never 
permit his premises to be desecrated by such an infamy 
as that. It is the most villainous slander ever perpe- 
trated, and is gotten up solely with a view to making 
criminals of political offenders so that foreign govern- 
ments would be obliged to deliver them up if they 
should succeed in making their escape. Fortunately, 
the characters of the men they have chosen as scape- 
goats are so far above suspicion as only to discredit 
the accusers themselves in the eyes of all decent people. 
The Clays were at our house while I was away last 
winter, and father says Mr. Clay reminded him of our 
friend Mr. Lafayette Lamar, and would be just about 
as capable of murder. And Jefferson Davis, our 
noble, unfortunate president — the accusation is simply 
a disgrace to those who make it. If there should hap- 
pen to be any truth in that strangely persistent rumor 
about Lincoln and Davis being brothers, what a situa- 
tion for the future Scotts and Schillers of America! 
While there is no proof that I know of, the thing does 
not seem so very improbable. I don't know anything 
about old Sam Davis or his morals, but when David 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 239 

said " all men are liars," he might have added another 
and greater sin — and proved it by his own example. 
There is undoubtedly a curious general resemblance in 
the physique of the two men as shown in their pictures, 
notwithstanding the plebeian aspect of the Illinois rail- 
splitter, which would easily be accounted for by the 
circumstances of his birth. True or false, it is a sit- 
uation to rank with '" Don Carlos/' " Le Cid/' or '' Les 
Freres Ennemis." 

Our cavalry have won their point about the terms 
of surrender, and rode triumphantly out of town this 
afternoon, still retaining their side arms. There were 
3,000 of them, and they made a sight worth looking at 
as they passed by our street gate. It is well the Yanks 
gave up to them, for they said they were determined 
to fight again rather than yield, and our own returned 
volunteers were ready to help them. They say the 
little handful of a garrison were frightened all but out 
of their wits anyway, for our men could have eaten 
them up before they had time to send for reenforce- 
ments. Some of our cavalry got drunk a night or two 
ago, and drove them all into the courthouse, wounding 
one man in the row. An officer came up from Augusta 
to-day, with reenforcements. They seem to regard 
Washington as true to its old revolutionary sobriquet 
of " The Hornets' Nest," and are evidently afraid to 
stay here without a strong force while such large num- 
bers of our rebel soldiers are passing through. John- 
ston's army is now in full sweep. The town is thronged 



240 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

with them from morn till night, and from. night till 
morning. They camp in our grove by whole com- 
panies, but never do any mischief. I love to look out 
of my windows in the night and see their camp fires 
burning among the trees and their figures moving 
dimly in and out among the shadows, like protecting 
spirits. I love to lie awake and hear the sound of 
their voices talking and laughing over their hard ex- 
periences. Metta and I often go out to the gate after 
supper and sing the old rebel songs that we know will 
please them. 

May II, Thursday, — Henry reached home late in 
the afternoon, so ragged and dirty that none of us 
knew him till he spoke. He had not had a change of 
clothes for three weeks, and his face was so dirty that 
he had to wash it before we could kiss him. He came 
all the way from Greensborough, N. C, on horseback, 
and when we asked him where he got his horse, he 
laughed and said that he bought a saddle for fifty cents 
in silver — his pay for three years' service — and kept 
on swapping till he found himself provided with a 
horse and full outfit. Garnett said he had better quit 
medicine and go to horse trading. The scarcity of 
specie gives it a fictitious value that brings down prices 
wonderfully, but even this is not sufficient to account 
for the sudden fall in the value of horses that has taken 
place in the track of our returning armies. Even here 
in Wilkes County, where the Confederate treasury 
was raided and specie is comparatively plentiful, horses 



OF A GEORGIA- GIRL 241 

sell every day at prices ranging from 50c. to $2.50; 
and yesterday on the square, a negro sold one for 25c. 
The tide of travel is now mostly westward, and the 
soldiers help themselves to horses on the way that they 
have no further use for when they strike the railroad 
here, and are glad to sell them for any price they will 
bring, or even turn them loose to get rid of them. In- 
stead of having to be guarded like gold, as was the 
case a week or two ago, horses are now a drug on the 
market at every railway station. Gen. Elzey says he 
found no sale for his in Augusta. I don't know what 
he will do for money to get home on. 

Henry traveled out from Greensborough (N. C.) 
with an artillery company which paid its way in cloth 
and thread. The regiment to which he had been at- 
tached disbanded and scattered soon after the sur- 
render, all except himself and the adjutant. Capt. 
Hudson says Henry doctored the adjutant and the 
adjutant officered him. They attached themselves to 
Maj. Palmer's battalion of artillery and Henry trav- 
eled as far as Ruckersville with it. He is now ready 
to begin life anew with a broken-down old army horse 
as his sole stock in trade. Garnett has not even that 
much. The Yankees got his horse, and his boy Sidney, 
whom he left with Henry when he took to the field, 
disappeared — to enjoy the delights of freedom, I sup- 
pose. 

The Yankees began favoring Gen. Toombs with 
their attentions to-day. He and Gov. Brown and Mr. 



242 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Stephens have been permitted to remain so long unmo- 
lested that people were beginning to wonder what it 
could mean. To-day, however, news came of the ar- 
rest of Brown and Stephens, and an attempt was made 
to take Mr. Toombs. An extra train came in about 
noon, bringing a company of bluecoats under the com- 
mand of a Capt. Saint — and a precious saint he proved 
to be. Everybody thought they had merely come to 
reenforce Capt. Abraham's garrison, but their purpose 
was soon made apparent when they marched up to 
Gen. Toombs's house. Cora was up there spending the 
day, and saw it all. The general was in his sitting- 
room when the Yankees were seen entering his front 
gate. He divined their purpose and made his escape 
through the back door as they were entering the front, 
and I suppose he is safely concealed now in some coun- 
try house. The intruders proceeded to search the 
dwelling, looking between mattresses and under 
bureaus, as if a man of Gen. Toombs's size could be 
hid like a paper doll ! They then questioned the serv- 
ants, but none of them would give the least informa- 
tion, though the Yankees arrested all the negro men 
and threatened to put them in jail. They asked old 
Aunt Betty where her master was, and she answered 
bluntly: " Ef I knowed, I wouldn't tell you." They 
then ordered her to cook dinner for them, but she 
turned her broad back on them, saying : '' I won't do no 
sech a thing; I'se a gwineter hep my missis pack up 
her clo'es." The servants were all very indignant at 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 243 

the manner in which they were ordered about, and de- 
clared that their own white folks had never spoken to 
them in " any sech a way." Mrs. Toombs's dinner 
was on the table and the family about to go into the 
dining-room when the intruders arrived, and they ate 
it all up besides ordering more to be cooked for them. 
They threatened to burn the house down if the general 
was not given up, and gave the family just two hours 
to move out. Gen. Gilmer, who was in the old army 
before the war, remonstrated with them, and they ex- 
tended the time till ten o'clock at night, and kindly 
promised not to burn it at all if the general were de- 
livered up to them in the meantime. Mrs. Toombs 
straightened herself up and said : '' Burn it then," and 
the family immediately began to move out. Neither 
Mrs. Toombs nor Mrs. DuBose suffered the Yankees 
to see them shed a tear, though both are ready to die 
of grief, and Mrs. DuBose on the verge of her con- 
finement, too. Everything is moved out of the house 
now, and Mrs. Toombs says she hopes it will be burned 
rather than used by the miserable plunderers and their 
negro companions. The family have found shelter 
with their relatives and distributed their valuables 
among their friends. The family pictures and some 
of the plate are stored in our house, and mother in- 
vited Mrs. Walthall here, but she went to the 
Anthonys', knowing how crowded we are. Cora staid 
with them till late in the afternoon, when the news of 
Henry's arrival brought her home. I hope the general 



244 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

will get off safe, and Gov. Brown too, though I never 
admired him. But when people are in misfortune is 
no time to be bringing up their faults against them. 

The most infamous thing I ever heard of even a 
Yankee doing, was their trying to entrap Gen. 
Toombs's little grand-children into betraying him, and 
little Toombs DuBose innocently informed them that 
" grand-pa was in the house when they came." They 
met Touch Elzey coming from school and taunted him 
with being the son of a rebel, but he spoke up like a 
man and said he was proud of being a rebel, and so 
was his father. They insulted the boy by telling him 
that now was his chance to make a fortune by inform- 
ing where the president and Mr. Clay were gone. Mrs. 
Elzey was so angry when Touch told her about it that 
she says she was ready to go on the war-path herself. 

May 12, Friday. — The Saint and his angels failed to 
burn Gen. Toombs's house, after all. Whether' the 
threat was a mere idle swagger to bully helpless women 
and children, time must reveal. Capt. Abraham re- 
turned from Augusta to-day with more reenforce- 
ments, and immediately apologized to Mrs. Toombs 
for the insults to which she had been subjected, and 
said that orders for the raid upon her were given over 
his head and without his knowledge. He really seems 
to have the instincts of a gentleman, and I am afraid I 
shall be obliged to respect him a little, in spite of his 
uniform. Although considerably reen forced, his gar- 
rison seems to be still in wholesome fear of a conflict 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 245 

with our throngs of disbanded soldiers. A cavalry- 
man went to the courthouse the other day and de- 
liberately helped himself to a musket before their eyes, 
and they did not even remonstrate. Our cavalry are 
a reckless, unruly lot, yet I can't help admiring them 
because they are such red-hot rebels. It may be fool- 
ish, but somehow I like the spirit of those who refuse 
to repent, and who swear they would do it all over, if 
the thing were to be done again. A curious story was 
told me to-day about the fate of some of the plundered 
Confederate treasure. A troop of horsemen who 
were making off with a bag of specie they had '* cap- 
tured,'' containing $5,000 in silver, were alarmed the 
other day, just as they were riding past Gen. Toombs's 
gate, by a report that the Yankees were after them, 
and threw the sack over the fence into his yard. The 
general sent it to the commandant as belonging to the 
assets of the defunct Confederacy. I wish he had 
thrown it into the fire rather than given it to them. 

I had a little adventure with a party of Yankees 
myself this afternoon. I was down in the back garden 
with Marshall, Touchy, Gilmer Sale, and some other 
boys, shooting at a mark with an Enfield rifle and a 
minie musket they had picked up somewhere. We 
were using the trunk of a small cedar at the foot of 
the hill for our target, and it was such a retired spot 
that we never dreamed of anybody's being within range 
of our guns, when a dozen bluecoats came tearing down 
the hill on the other side of the rose hedge, frightened 



246 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

out of their senses and cursing like fury. They had 
been taking a stroll through the woods on the other 
side of the hedge, and when our balls began to whistle 
about their ears, thought they were bushwhacked. I 
heard one of them say, as he made his way through an 
opening in the vines : " I never saw balls fly thicker in 
battle." Fortunately for us they were unarmed and 
could not return the fire. When they saw that the 
supposed bushwhackers were only a woman and half 
a dozen children, they sent one of their number to 
speak with us. The little boys wanted to run when 
they saw him coming, but I was afraid the affair might 
get us into trouble unless I explained, so I stood wait- 
ing for the envoy, with Marshall's rifle in my hand. I 
told the man what we were doing, and expressed the 
hope — which happened, for once, to be sincere — that 
we had not hurt anybody. He looked very gruff, and 
answered : " No, you ain't shot anybody, but you came 
within an inch of killing me. You ought to be more 
careful how you shoot." I wanted to tell him that he 
ought to be more careful how he went prowling about 
on private grounds, but I didn't know what tale he 
might carry to headquarters if I angered him, so I 
answered very politely that I didn't know there was 
anybody behind the hedge, or I would not have fired 
in that direction. 

"What are you shooting at, anyway?" he asked, 
looking round unsatisfied and suspicious. 

I pointed to the cedar trunk, as yet unscathed by 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 247 

our wandering bullets. The fellow laughed, and 
reaching out for the rifle, said : " Let me show you 
how to shoot." 

But I held fast to my weapon, though I knew I 
couldn't fire it to save my life, without resting it on 
something and pulling at the trigger with both hands, 
but I thought it best to put on a brave face in the pres- 
ence of the enemy. He then took Gilmer's musket, 
aimed it at a small vine no bigger round than my little 
finger, twined about a sapling at least 100 feet away, 
and cut it in two as clean as if he had done it with a 
penknife. I couldn't help admiring the accuracy of his 
shot, but I pretended to take no notice. He then ex- 
amined the empty barrel closely, returned it to Gilmer, 
and marched away to join his companions, without 
even touching his hat, as the most ignorant Confed- 
erate would have done. The others were peeping all 
the time through the hedge, and I heard one of them 
ask him : " Why didn't you take the guns away from 
the damned little rebels?" I didn't change my posi- 
tion till they were out of sight, and then we all scuttled 
off to the house as hard as we could go. We had not 
been there long before a squad of soldiers came up the 
avenue, and said there were some army guns in the 
house, which they must have, as by the terms of the 
surrender they were now the property of the Federal 
Government. They called father '' old fellow " in a 
very insolent manner, that made me indignant. 

Our grove is alight every night with the camp fires 



248 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

of Johnston's men. I often go out to talk with them 
in the evenings, and hear them tell about their homes 
and their adventures in the war. They are all greatly 
discontented with the peace, and I sympathize with 
them. They are always grateful for an encouraging 
word, and it is about all we have to give them now. 
Most of them are plain, uneducated men, and all are 
ragged and dirty and sunburnt. Some of the poor 
fellows have hardly clothes enough to make them de- 
cent. But they are Confederate soldiers, and those 
honorable rags have seen some glorious fighting. 

Gen. Elzey heard one Yankee soldier say to 
another yesterday, as he was walking behind 
them on the street, in passing our house : " Gar- 
nett Andrews gave one of our men the hell of a 
saber cut the other day, at* Salisbury." I am 
glad he gave them something so good to remember him 
by. Poor Garnett is suffering very much from his 
arm. He is confined to bed, threatened with fever, 
and we can't get proper food for him. We have noth- 
ing but ham, ham, ham, every day, and such crowds of 
company in the house, and so many lunches to furnish, 
that even the ham has to be husbanded carefully. It 
is dreadful to think what wretched fare we have to set 
before the charming people who are thrown upon our 
hospitality. Ham and cornfield peas for dinner one 
day, and cornfield peas and ham the next, is the tedious 
menu. Mother does her best by making Emily give 
us every variation on peas that ever was heard of; one 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 249 

day we have pea soup, another, pea croquettes, then 
baked peas and ham, and so on, through the whole 
gamut, but alas ! they are cornfield peas still, and often 
not enough of even them. Sorghum molasses is all 
the sweetening we have, and if it were not for the nice 
home-made butter and milk, and father's fine old 
Catawba wine and brandy, there would be literally 
nothing to redeem the family larder from bankruptcy. 
And if that were all, it would not be so bad, but there 
is as great a scarcity of house linen as of provisions. 
All that has not been given to hospitals or cut up into 
underclothing, is worn out, and we have hardly any- 
thing but the coarse yellow sheeting made by the 
Macon and Augusta mills, with such a shortage of even 
that, as not to give sheets enough to change the beds 
half as often as they ought to be. As for towels, 
mammy spends her whole time going from room to 
room, gathering up the soiled ones and taking them 
to the wash and back again as fast as they can be done, 
and even then there are not enough to give everybody 
a good clean wipe more than once a day. It is delight- 
ful to have so many charming people in the house, but 
dreadfully mortifying to think we can't entertain them 
any better. Besides the guests staying in the house 
we have a stream of callers all day long, both friends 
and strangers. The Irvin Artillery are all back home 
now and each one has some friend to introduce. 

May 13, Saturday. — [Ms. torn] . . . The Yan- 
kees have stopped our mails, or else the mails have 



250 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

stopped themselves. We get no papers, but thousands 
of wild rumors from every direction take their place 
and keep us stirred up all the time. Among the arri- 
vals to-day was Mr. Wyman, who brought with him a 
Dr. Nicholson, surgeon of his regiment [the ist Ala- 
bama Cavalry], and the poor fellows were so starved 
that it made me tremble to see how our meager dinner 
disappeared before them, though it did my heart good, 
too, to see how they enjoyed it. They belong to 
Wheeler's Cavalry, and we had a great time running 
them about being in such bad company. Mother said 
she was going to hide the silver, and Mr. Wyman told 
her she had better search the doctor's pockets before 
he went away, and the doctor gave the same advice 
about Mr. Wyman. Their regiment was commanded 
by the Col. Blakey I met in Montgomery winter before 
last, and Mr. Wyman says he disbanded his men to 
get rid of them. They tell all sorts of hard jokes on 
themselves. 

A favorite topic of conversation at this time is what 
we are going to do for a living. Mary Day has been 
working assiduously at paper cigarettes to sell the 
Yankees. I made some myself, with the same inten- 
tion, but we both gave them all away to the poor Con- 
federates as fast as we could roll them. It is dreadful 
to be so poor, but somehow, I can't suppress a forlorn 
hope that it won't last always, and that a time may 
come when we will laugh at all these troubles even 
more heartily than we do now. But although we 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 251 

laugh, I sometimes feel in my heart more like crying, 
and I am afraid that father speaks the truth when he 
says that things are more likely to become worse than 
better. 

May 14, Sunday. — Mr, Wyman and Dr. Nicholson 
went their way this morning long before anybody was 
up, so that I had to peep through the blinds to bid them 
good-by. I told them the reason they were off so early 
was to avoid having their pockets searched, and Dr. 
Nicholson answered that they thought it best to get 
out of the way before we had time to count the spoons. 
They must have had a lively time on their journey 
thus far, judging from Mr. Wyman's account of it. 

On my way to church I had a striking illustration of 
the difference between our old friends and our new 
masters. The streets were thronged with rebel sol- 
diers, and in one part of my walk, I had to pass where 
a large number of them were gathered on the pave- 
ment, some sitting, some standing, some lying down, 
but as soon as I appeared, the way was instantly cleared 
for me, the men standing like a wall, on either side, 
with hats off, until I had passed. A little farther on 
I came to a group of Yankees and negroes that filled 
up the sidewalk, but not one of them budged, and I 
had to flank them by going out into the dusty road. 
It is the first time in my life that I have ever had to 
give up the sidewalk to a man, much less to negroes ! 
I was so indignant that I did not carry a devotional 
spirit to church. 



252 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

The Yankees have pressed five of father's negro 
men to work for them. They even took old Uncle 
Watson, whom father himself never calls on to do 
anything except the lightest work about the place, and 
that only when he feels like it. They are very capri- 
cious in their treatment of negroes, as is usually the 
case with upstarts who are not used to having servants 
of their own. Sometimes they whip them and send 
them back to their masters, and last week. Lot Abra- 
ham sent three of his white men to jail for tampering 
with *' slaves," as they call them. This morning, how- 
ever, they sent off several wagon-loads of runaways, 
and it is reported that Harrison and Alfred, two of 
father's men, have gone with them. People are mak- 
ing no effort to detain their negroes now, for they have 
found out that they are free, and our power over them 
is gone. Our own servants have behaved very well 
thus far. The house servants have every one re- 
mained with us, and three out of five plantation hands 
whom the Yankees captured in Alabama, ran away 
from them and came back home. Csesar Ann, Cora's 
nurse, went off to Augusta this morning, professedly 
to see her husband, who she says is sick, but we all 
think, in reality, to try the sweets of freedom. Cora 
and Henry made no effort to keep her, but merely 
warned her that if she once went over to the Yankees, 
she could never come back to them any more. Mother 
will have to give up one of her maids to nurse Maud, 
but I suppose it is a mere question of time when we 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 253 

shall have to give them all up anyway, so it doesn't 
matter. 

We have had an unusually quiet day. Only three 
new guests, and two of them were sent by Judge 
Crump to see father on business. They brought news 
of the Judge and our dear Captain which we were glad 
to hear. I walked in the grove after sunset and talked 
with the rebels who were camping there, and we 
mourned together over the capture of our beloved 
President. Johnston's army will soon have all passed 
through, and then the Yankee garrison will feel free 
to treat us as it pleases. Several thousand of our men 
pass through almost every day. Six thousand are 
expected to-morrow. When the last one is gone, 
what desolation there will be! I think I will hang 
a Confederate uniform on a pole and keep it to 
look at. 

May 15, Monday. — Harry Day returned from 
Augusta, bringing frightful accounts of what the taxes, 
proscriptions, and confiscations are going to be. Father 
says that if a man were to sit down and write a pro- 
gramme for reducing a country to the very worst con- 
dition it could possibly be in, his imagination could 
not invent anything half so bad as the misery that is 
likely to come upon us. The cities and towns are 
already becoming overcrowded with runaway negroes. 
In Augusta they are clamoring for food, which the 
Yankees refuse to give, and their masters, having once 
been deserted by them, refuse to take them back. 



254 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Even in our little town the streets are so full of idle 
negroes and bluecoats that ladies scarcely ever venture 
out. We are obliged to go sometimes, but it is always 
with drooping heads and downcast eyes. A settled 
gloom, deep and heavy, hangs over the whole land. 
All hearts are in mourning for the fall of our country, 
and all minds rebellious against the wrongs and oppres- 
sion to which our cruel conquerors subject us. I don't 
believe this war is over yet. The Trans-Mississippi 
bubble has burst, but wait till the tyranny and arro- 
gance of the United States engages them in a foreign 
war! Ah, we'll bide our time. That's what all the 
men say, and their eyes glow and their cheeks burn 
when they say it. Though the whole world has de- 
serted us and left us to perish without even a pitying 
sigh at our miserable doom, and we hate the whole 
world for its cruelty, yet we hate the Yankees more, 
and they will find the South a volcano ready to burst 
beneath their feet whenever the justice of heaven hurls 
a thunderbolt at their heads. We are overwhelmed, 
overpowered, and trodden underfoot . . . but " im- 
mortal hate and study of revenge " lives, in the soul of 
every man. . . . [Ms. torn.] 

Mrs. Alfred Gumming, whose husband was Gov- 
ernor of Utah before the war, came to see us this 
morning. She tried to go to Glarkesville, but found 
the country so infested with robbers and bushwhackers 
and " Kirke's Lambs,'' that she dared not venture three 
miles beyond Athens. The Yankees have committed 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 255 

such depredations there that the whole country is desti- 
tute and the people desperate. The poor are clamoring 
for bread, and many of them have taken to '' bush- 
whacking " as their only means of living. Mrs. Gum- 
ming traveled from Union Point to Barnett in the 
same car with Mr. Stephens. The Yankee guard suf- 
fered him to stop an hour at Crawfordville [his 
home], in order to collect some of his clothing. As 
soon as his arrival became known, the people flocked 
to see him, weeping and wringing their hands. All 
his negroes went out to see him off, and many others 
from the surrounding plantations. Mrs. Gumming 
says that as the train moved off, all along the plat- 
form, honest black hands of every shape and size were 
thrust in at the window, with cries of " Good-by, Mr. 
Stephens; " " Far' well, Marse Aleck." All the spec- 
tators were moved to tears; the vice-president him- 
self gave way to an outburst of affectionate — not 
cowardly grief, and even his Yankee guard looked 
serious while this affecting scene passed before their 
eyes. . . . 

May 16, Tuesday. — Two delightful visitors after 
tea, Col. Trenholm [son of the secretary of the 
treasury] and Mr. Morgan, of the navy, who is to 
marry his sister. 

The news this evening is that we have all got to take 
the oath of allegiance before getting married. This 
horrid law caused much talk in our rebellious circle, 
and the gentlemen laughed very much when Cora said : 



256 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

*' Talk about dying for your country, but what is that 
to being an old maid for it ? " 

The chief thought of our men now is how to embroil 
the United States either in foreign or internal commo- 
tions, so that we can rebel again. They all say that 
if the Yankees had given us any sort of tolerable terms 
they would submit quietly, though unwillingly, to the 
inevitable; but if they carry out the abominable pro- 
gramme of which flying rumors reach us, extermina- 
tion itself will be better than submission. Garnett says 
that if it comes to the worst, he can turn bushwhacker, 
and we all came to the conclusion that if this kind of 
peace continues, bushwhacking will be the most re- 
spectable occupation in which a man can engage. Mr. 
Morgan said, with a lugubrious smile, that his most 
ambitious hope now is to get himself hanged as quickly 
as possible. 

May 17, Wednesday. — Cora, has a letter from Mat- 
tie [her sister] giving a very pathetic account of the 
passage of the prisoners through Augusta. She says 
that Telfair St. was thronged with ladies, all weep- 
ing bitterly, as the mournful procession passed on, and 
that even the President's Yankee guard seemed touched 
by the exhibition of grief. The more sensitive may 
have shut themselves up, as Mr. Day said, but I am 
glad some were there to testify that the feeling of the 
South is still with our fallen President and to shame 
with their tears the insulting cries of his persecutors. 

The weather was very threatening and cloudy in 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 257 

the afternoon so that I did not dress as much as usual, 
and, of course, had more visitors than ever. . . . 
Maria Irvin said something which made me feel very 
uncomfortable. I was sitting across the room from 
her, and she told me, loud enough for everybody to 
hear, that the first evening the Yankees arrived in 
Washington, they were heard to say that they knew 
all about Judge Andrews; he was a good Union man,- 
and they liked him. At my side was Maj. White, an 
exile from Maryland, whose poor down-trodden State 
has suffered so much, and I thought it was real spite- 
ful in her to be throwing up father's politics to me 
there, so I flew up and told her that if my father was 
a Union man he had more sons in the Confederate 
army than hers had,* and he didn't wait till the war 
was over, like so many other people that I knew, to ex- 
press his Union sentiments. Father's politics distress 
me a great deal, but nobody shall say a word against 
him where I am. Poor, dear old father, everything he 
said in the beginning has come true, just as he said it 
would, even to the Confederacy being split in two 
by an invasion through Tennessee or Kentucky, — 
but all that don't make me love the ones that have 
brought it about any better. 

Johnston's army has nearly all gone. The last large 
body of troops has passed through, and in a few weeks 
even the stragglers and hangers-on will have disap- 
peared. There have been no camp fires in our grove 

*He had but two— both brave Confederate soldiers. 



258 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

since Sunday, but five of the dear old Rebs are sleeping 
in our corn-crib to-night. They said they were too 
dirty to come into the house, and they are so consid- 
erate that they would not even sleep in an out-house 
without asking permission. Hundreds, if not thou- 
sands of them have camped in our grove, and the only 
damage they ever did — if that can be called a damage, 
— was to burn a few fence rails. In the whole history 
of war I don't believe another instance can be found 
of so little mischief being committed as has been done 
by these disbanded, disorganized, poverty-stricken, 
starving men of Lee's and Johnston's armies. Against 
the thousands and tens of thousands that have passed 
through Washington, the worst that can be charged is 
the plundering of the treasury and the government 
stores, and as they would have gone to the Yankees 
anyway, our men can hardly be blamed for taking 
whatever they could get, rather than let it go to the 
enemy. They were on their way to far-distant homes, 
without a cent of money in their pockets or a mouthful 
of food in their haversacks, and the Confederate stores 
had been collected for the use of our army, and were 
theirs by right, anyway. They have hardly ever 
troubled private property, except horses and provender, 
and when we think of the desperate situation in which 
they were left after the surrender, the only wonder is 
that greater depredations were not committed. And 
at the worst, what is the theft of a few bundles of fod- 
der, or even of a horse, compared with hanging men 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 259 

up on a slack rope and poking them with bayonets to 
make them tell where their valuables were hid; or to 
pulling the cover off a sick woman as the Yankees did 
that one at Barnesville, and exposing her person to 
make sure she had no jewelry or money concealed in 
the bed with her? The Northern papers are full of 
wild stories about Southern lawlessness, though every- 
body in this county can testify that the two or three 
thousand sleek, well-fed Yankee troops who have come 
here to take " peaceable possession " of the country 
have committed ten times more depredations than the 
whole Confederate army during its march into Penn- 
sylvania. Some of them broke into Col. Tom Willis's 
cellar the other day, and when they had drunk as much 
of his peach brandy as they could hold, they spit into 

the rest to keep the *' d d rebels " from having it. 

They strut about the streets of Washington with negro 
women on their arms and sneak around into people's 
kitchens, tampering with the servants and setting them 
against the white people. Sometimes the more respec- 
table negroes themselves are disgusted at their conduct. 
Mrs. Irvin says her old cook collared one the other 
day and pushed him out of the kitchen. 

I was greatly touched the other day by the history 
of a little boy, not much bigger than Marshall, whom 
I found in the back yard with a party of soldiers that 
had come in to get their rations cooked. Metta first 
noticed him and asked how such a little fellow came to 
be in the army. The soldiers told us that his father 



26o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

had gone to the war with the first volunteers from 
their county, and had never been heard of again, after 
one of the great battles he was in. Then the mother 
died, and the little boy followed a party of recruits 
who took him along with them for a " powder 
monkey," and he had been following them around, a 
sort of child of the regiment, ever since. 

I asked him what he was going to do now, and he 
answered : '' I am going to Alabama with these sol- 
diers, to try and make a living for myself." Poor 
little fellow ! making a living for himself at an age 
when most children are carefully tucked in their beds 
at night by their mothers, and are playing with toys 
or sent to school in the da3^time. Metta gave him a 
piece of sorghum cake, and left him with his friends. 

May 1 8, Thursday. — Aunt Sallie gave a dinner to 
Gen. and Mrs. Elzey. Everybody from our house 
was invited except Cousin Liza, Metta, and me, who 
were left out like children, because there wasn't room 
for us at table. We were so delighted at being spared 
the responsibility of getting up a dinner ourselves, that 
we easily relieved the old lady's fear of giving ofifense 
by leaving us out, especially as she sent us a lot of good 
things from her feast. We had taken advantage of 
the opportunity to spare our poverty-stricken larder, 
and were making ourselves merry over a wretched 
dinner of ham and cornfield peas, when Charity said : 
'* Here comes Simon with a waiter from Mis Brown." 
The table looked so bare and doleful that Mett made 



^2SH3a3HSHSHSHSHSE5HSaSHSaSHSES2SHSHSHSHSHSH5Z£ 




OF A GEORGIA GIRL 261 

us laugh by ordering Cliarity, before we sat down, to 

toll the dinner bell, and Cousin Liza, as she took her 

seat, folded her hands and droned in a camp-meeting 

tone : 

" For Oh ! I feel an aching void 
That ham and peas can never fill." 

I never laughed more in my life, and the arrival of 
Aunt Sallie's generous contribution did not detract 
from our good spirits. 

We had just finished eating and got into our wrap- 
pers when two rebel horsemen came galloping up 
the avenue with news that a large body of Yankee 
cavalry was advancing down the Greensborough road, 
plundering the country as they passed. We hastily 
threw on our clothes and were busy concealing valu- 
ables for father, when the tramping of horses and 
shouting of the men reached our ears. Then they 
began to pass by our street gate, with two of their de- 
testable old flags flaunting in the breeze. I ran for Gar- 
nett's field-glass and watched them through it. Nearly 
all of them had bags of plunder tied to their saddles, 
and many rode horses which were afterwards recog- 
nized as belonging to different planters in the county. 
I saw one rascal with a ruflled pillowcase full of 
stolen goods, tied to his saddle, and some of them had 
women's drawers tied up at the bottom ends, filled 
with plunder and slung astride their horses. There 
was a regiment of negroes with them, and they halted 
right in front of our gate. Think of it ! Bringing 



E W 



262 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

armed negroes here to threaten and insult us! We 
were so furious that we shook our fists and spit at 
them from behind the window where we were sitting. 
It may have been childish, but it relieved our feelings. 
None of them came within the enclosure, but the 
officers pranced about before the gate until I felt as 
if I would like to take a shot at them myself, if I had 
had a gun, and known how to use it. They are 
camped for the night on the outskirts of the town, and 
everybody expects to be robbed before morning. Father 
loaded his two guns, and after the servants had been 
dismissed, we hid the silver in the hollow by the chim- 
ney up in the big garret, and father says it shall not 
be brought out again till the country becomes more set- 
tled. A furious storm came up just at sunset, and I 
hope it will confine the mongrel crew to their tents. 

May 19, Friday. — The storm lasted nearly all night, 
and there were no plunderers abroad. It is some ad- 
vantage to live at a military post when the comman- 
dant is a man like Capt. Abraham, who, from all ac- 
counts, seems to try to do the best for us that he knows 
how. Our men say that he not only listens, but at- 
tends to the complaints that are carried to him by 
white people as carefully as to those brought by 
negroes. The other day a Yankee soldier fired into 
our back porch and came near killing one of the serv- 
ants. I saw a batch of them in the back garden, 
where the shot came from, and sent Henry to speak 
to them, but they swore they had not been shooting. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 263 

Henry knew it was a lie, so he went and complained 
to " Marse Lot," who said that such molestation of 
private families should be stopped at once, and we have 
not heard a gun fired on our premises since. It is a 
pretty pass, though, when a gentleman can't defend his 
own grounds, but has to cringe and ask protection 
from a Yankee master. 

Somebody has been writing in the " Chronicle & 
Sentinel " accusing our armies of dissolving themselves 
into bands of marauders. I am surprised that any 
Southern paper should publish such a slander. Of 
course, it is not to be expected that under the circum- 
stances, some disorders would not occur, but the won- 
der is there have been so few. I have witnessed the 
breaking up of three Confederate armies; Lee's and 
Johnston's have already passed through Washington, 
and Gen. Dick Taylor's is now in transit, but all these 
thousands upon thousands of disbanded, disorganized, 
disinherited Southerners have not committed one- 
twentieth part of the damage to private property that 
was committed by the first small squad of Yankee 
cavalry that passed through our county. We are be- 
ginning to hear from all quarters of the depredations 
committed by the regiments, with their negro fol- 
lowers, that came through town yesterday. Their 
conduct so exasperated the people that they were bush- 
whacked near Greensborough, and several of their 
men wounded. They then forced the planters to fur- 
nish horses and vehicles for their transportation. 



264 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Henry says that one of their own officers was heard to 
remark on the square, that after the way in which they 
had behaved he could not blame the people for attack- 
ing them. When they bring negro troops among us 
it is enough to make every man in the Confederacy 
turn bushwhacker. 

May 20, Saturday. — Harry Day took his departure 
this morning. He seems to have enjoyed his visit 
greatly, though I am afraid any pleasure he may have 
got out of it was due more to the good company we 
have in the house than to the merits of our house- 
keeping; our larder is about down to a starvation 
basis. . . . 

Capt. Hudson and Mrs. Alfred Gumming called 
after breakfast, and while we were in the parlor with 
them, a servant came in bringing a present of a pet 
lamb for Marsh from Mrs. Ben Jordan. Father 
laughed and said it was like sending a lamb among 
hungry wolves, to place it in this famished household, 
and Henry suggested that we make a general massacre 
of pets. 

May 21, Sunday. — I went to church with Mary Day. 
Lot Abraham and some of his men were there. I 
couldn't help thinking what an accession Lot would 
have been if he had brought his wife and come among 
us in the days of the Confederacy, when salt was at 
such a premium. He is a big, tall fellow from Iowa, 
not a spindling little down-Easter. Two of the Yan- 
kees seated themselves in the pew with Charley Irvin, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 265 

who instantly rose and changed his seat. The others 
had sense enough to take the hint and confine them- 
selves to vacant pews. 

Mr. Adams preached, as usual. He prayed for all 
prisoners and fugitives, and against injustice and op- 
pression, though in guarded language. He read the 
Twenty-seventh Psalm, laying marked emphasis on 
the words : " False witnesses have risen up against 
me." 

Capt. Hudson and Gen. Elzey came over in the 
evening and took tea with us. We had a disgrace- 
fully poor supper, but it was impossible to do any 
better. Capt. Hudson is coming to-morrow to stay 
at our house, and will be Garnett's guest till he can 
get money to take him back to his home in Virginia. 

While walking in the grove after dinner, I heard a 
fine band playing in the street. I turned away and 
tried not to listen, till little Marshall called to me that 
it was a Confederate band. In his eagerness to hear, he 
had climbed up on the fence and sat down in the midst 
of a group of Yankee soldiers that had planted them- 
selves there, and told him it was Confederate music. I 
made him get down and go back to the house with me. 

May 22, Monday. — No visitors all day, except two 
of father's country friends who came in to dinner. 
In the afternoon Mary and I took the carriage and 
made some calls that have been on our minds a long 
time. Conversation was mostly an exchange of ex- 
periences. We have suffered much less in town where 

18 



266 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the soldiers are under some restraint, than the people 
have on the plantations. The garrison are insolent, 
and annoy housekeepers by their familiarity with the 
servants, and at the same time they are hard on the 
negroes that work for them, but we can submit to 
these things for the sake of the protection the Iowa 
hoosier tries to give us. On account of father's al- 
ways having been such a strong Union man, he is 
supposed to have some influence with our new masters, 
and is frequently appealed to by the citizens to lay 
their grievances before the Yankee commandant, and 
so he has become pretty well acquainted with him in a 
business way. He says he is a dreadful vulgarian, 
but seems to have plenty of good sense, and a good 
heart. I suppose he is a Jew, but one can't always 
judge by names. Two of the most infamous wretches 
that have made themselves conspicuous here were 
named " Saint " and "Angel."* 

May 22,, Tuesday. — In bed nearly all day. Cousin 
Liza read aloud to entertain me, but I slept through 

* Looking back through the glass of memory, I see no reason to 
dissent from my father's opinion as to the good intentions and 
general uprightness of this much-berated Federal officer, and I 
believe it would now be the general verdict of the people over 
whom he was called to exercise " a little brief authority," that he 
used it to the best of his ability in the interest of peace and justice. 
We were naturally in a state of irritation at the time, against all 
authority imposed upon us by force, and the fact that he was our 
first master under the hated rule of the conqueror made him a 
target for the " undying hate to Rome " that rankled in every 
Southern breast and converted each individual Yankee into a vica- 
rious black sheep for the sins of the whole nation. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 267 

most of it. I went to walk in the afternoon and met 
John Garnett just from Albany, and he says the Yan- 
kees are behaving better in South- West Georgia than 
anybody expected. This makes us all feel very much 
relieved on sister's account. 

Capt. Goldthwaite, of Mobile, spent the night at our 
house. He comes direct from Richmond and brings 
welcome news from our friends there. The Elzeys 
spent the evening. 

May 24, Wednesday. — Capt. Abraham — the right- 
eous Lot — and his garrison left town this morning, and 
no others have come as yet to take their place. They 
were much disgusted at their reception here, I am 
told, and some of them were heard to declare that 
there was not a pretty woman in the place. No won- 
der, when the only ones that associated with them 
were negroes. They had two negro balls while they 
were here, the white men dancing with the negro 
women. One night they held their orgy in Bolton's 
Range, and kept everybody on the square awake with 
their disgraceful noise. They strutted about the 
streets on Sundays with negro wenches on their arms, 
and yet their officers complain because they are not 
invited to sit at the tables of Southern gentlemen ! 

We took tea at the bank with the Elzeys. Maj. 
Hall is well enough to be out, and is a pleasant addi- 
tion to our circle of friends. 

May 25, Thursday. — But few callers during the day. 
Our gentlemen dined out. Gen. Elzey has been led 



268 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

to change his plan of going to Charlotte in a wagon, 
by news of the robbery of the Richmond banks. Five 
hundred thousand dollars in specie had been secretly 
packed and shipped from this place back to Richmond, 
in wagons, but the train was waylaid by robbers and 
plundered between here and Abbeville, somewhere 
near the Savannah River. It is thought they mistook 
it for the remains of the Confederate treasury. A 
man came to see father this afternoon, in great haste 
about it, but there is small hope of recovering any- 
thing. The whole country is in disorder and filled 
with lawless bands that call themselves rebels or Yan- 
kees, as happens to suit their convenience. They say 
it is not safe for a person to go six miles from town 
except in company and fully armed, and I am not sure 
that we shall be safe in the village, the negroes are 
crowding in so. " Marse " Abraham did protect us 
against them, in a way, and if his men hadn't tam- 
pered with them so, I shouldn't be sorry to see him back 
till things settle down a little. At present nobody 
dares to make any plans for the future. We can only 
wait each day for what the morrow may bring forth. 
Oh, we are utterly and thoroughly wretched! One 
of the latest proposals of the conquerors is to make 
our Confederate uniform the dress of convicts. The 
wretches! As if it was in the power of man to dis- 
grace the uniform worn by Robert E. Lee and Stone- 
wall Jackson ! They couldn't disgrace it, even if they 
were to put their own army into it. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 269 

May 26, Friday. — Our gentlemen dined out again. 
I took a ride in the afternoon with Capt. Hudson. He 
rode father's horse, " Mr. Ben," and I took his pony, 
'' Brickbat." We played whist after supper, but I 
don't like cards, and it was stupid. Some of the bank 
robbers have been caught, and $60,000 in money re- 
covered, but the prisoners were rescued by people liv- 
ing in that part of the county. Gen. Porter Alexander 
took some of the old Irvin Artillery and went out to 
arrest such of the guilty ones as could be found. They 
caught several who were suspected, but while the sol- 
diers were scattered around looking for others, the 
Danburg people armed themselves and made a rescue. 
All the money and plate that lives through these 
troublous times will have strange histories attached to 
it. One man had $1,000 in specie which he went out 
to conceal as soon as he heard that the Yankees were 
in his neighborhood. Before he could get it buried, 
he heard a squad of horsemen coming down the road, 
so he threw his bag of money over a hedge to get it 
out of sight, and lo ! there it struck a skulking Yankee 
pat on the head! This is the tale the country people 
tell, but so many wild reports are flying from mouth to 
mouth that one never knows what to believe. Where 
so many strange things are happening every day, 
nothing seems incredible. 

May 27, Saturday. — The Gordons and Paces are 
here on their way home from Virginia. Nora was in 
Richmond when it was evacuated, her nurse deserted 



270 THE^AR-TIME JOURNAL 

and went off to the Yankees, and she had an awful 
time coming out. The general [John B. Gordon] 
dropped in to see us; he is almost heartbroken over the 
fall of the Confederacy. His career in the army was 
so brilliant, no wonder he feels the bitter change for 
himself as well as for his country. 

After sitting awhile with Nora I went to see Mrs. 
Elzey and found her cutting off the buttons from the 
general's coat. The tyrants have prohibited the wear- 
ing of Confederate uniforms. Those who have no 
other clothes can still wear the gray, but must rip off 
the buttons and decorations. The beautiful Hunga- 
rian knot, the stars, and bars, the cords, the sashes, and 
gold lace, are all disappearing. People everywhere 
are ransacking old chests, and the men are hauling out 
the old clothes they used to wear before the war, and 
they do look so funny and old-fashioned, after the 
beautiful uniforms we had all gotten used to ! But the 
raggedest soldier of the Confederacy in his shabby old 
clothes is a more heroic figure in my eyes than any 
upstart Yankee officer in the finest uniform he can get 
into. Yet, it is pitiful, as well as comical, to see the 
poor fellows looking so dowdy. I feel like crying 
whenever I think of the change and all that it means. 
We are a poverty-stricken nation, and most of them 
are too poor to buy new clothes. I suppose we are 
just now at the very worst stage of our financial em- 
barrassments, and if we can manage to struggle 
through the next five or six months, some sort of cur- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 271 

rency will begin to circulate again. I have clothes 
enough to bridge over the crisis, I think, but mother's 
house linen is hopelessly short, and our family larder 
brought down to the last gasp. Father has a little 
specie, saved from the sale of the cotton he shipped to 
Liverpool before the war, but the country has been so 
drained of provisions that even gold cannot buy them. 
We have so much company that it is necessary to keep 
up appearances and set a respectable table, which Mett 
and I do, after a fashion, by hard struggling behind 
the scenes. The table generally looks well enough 
when we first sit down, but when we get up it is as bare 
as Jack Sprat's. We have some good laughs at the 
makeshifts we resort to for making things hold out. 
We eat as little as we can do with ourselves, but we 
don't want father's guests to suspect that we are 
stinted, so Metta pretends to a loss of appetite, while 
I profess a great fondness for whatever happens to be 
most abundant, which is always sure to be cornfield 
peas, or some other coarse, rank thing that I detest. 
It would all be very funny, if it were not so mortify- 
ing, with all these charming people in the house that 
deserve to be entertained like princes, and are used to 
having everything nice. Metta's delicate appetite and 
my affection for cornfield peas are a standing joke 
between us. She has the best of it, though, for she 
simply starves, while I " nawsierate," as Charity says. 
I make a face at the bag of peas whenever I go near 
it in the pantry. I don't know what we should do if 



272 THE>^AR-TIME JOURNAL 

it was not for Emily and Charity. They join in our 
consultations, moan over our difficulties, and carry out 
our plans with as much eagerness as old Caleb Balder- 
stone, in keeping up the credit of the family. Who 
would ever have believed that we could come to this? 
I can hardly believe it is I, plotting with the servants 
in the pantry to get up a dinner out of nothing, like the 
poor people I read about in books. It requires a great 
deal of management to find time for both parlor and 
kitchen, and to keep my manners and my dress un- 
ruffled. However, Mett and I find so much to laugh 
at in the comedies mixed up with our country's tragedy 
that it keeps us in a good humor. Mother don't help 
us much. She always did hate the worry of house- 
keeping, and she never was used to such as this. . . . 
The servants, however, are treasures. With the ex- 
ception of those who went to the Yankees, they all 
behave better and work harder than they did before. 
I really love them for the way they have stood by us. 
May 28, Sunday. — Nora and Mr. Pace spent the 
evening with us, and Cousin Boiling and the Elzeys 
dropped in, making quite a full table. Cousin Boiling 
came up from Cuthbert to visit his father's family 
before going to join Cousin Bessie in Memphis, and 
will be obliged to stay indefinitely because he can't get 
money to pay his way. After everybody else had 
gone, he and Capt. Hudson staid and chatted with us 
a long time. They taught us some thunderous Ger- 
man words to say when we feel like swearing at the 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 273 

Yankees, because Cora said she felt like doing it a 
dozen times a day, but couldn't because she was a 
woman. I remember this much :• '' Potts-tousand- 

schock-schwer an oat " and my brain could carry 

no more. I don't know how my spelling would look in 
German; I would prefer a good, round, English 
'' damn " anyway, if I dared use it. A fresh batch of 
Yankees have come to town under the command of 
a Capt. Schaeffer. I have not seen any of them, but 
I know they are frights in their horrid cavalry uni- 
form of blue and yellow. It is the ugliest thing I 
ever saw; looks like the back of a snake. The business 
of these newcomers, it is said, is to cram their nauseous 
oath of allegiance down our throats. 

May 29, Monday. — I went to the depot to see Nora 
and the Gordons off. The general sent me his love 
and good-by yesterday, but that did not suffice. I 
wanted to touch again the brave hand that has struck 
so many blows for Southern liberty. He is a splendid- 
looking man, and the very pattern of chivalry. Fanny 
Haralson was not thought to have done much of a 
business when she married the poor young lawyer from 
the mountains, but now she is the envy of womankind. 
I wish old Mrs. Haralson could have lived to see her 
son-in-law a lieutenant-general in the bravest army the 
world ever saw; it would have brought joy unspeak- 
able to her proud heart — as who would not be proud 
of such a son-in-law? 

From the depot I was going out to return calls with 



274 THe'^AR-TIME journal 

Mary Day, but Garnett told me he had invited the El- 
zeys to dinner, so I came home to receive them. Capt. 
Hudson brought Cousin Boiling, and we had a pleasant 
little party. I have not seen people enjoy themselves 
so much since our country fell under the tyrant's heel. 
Gen. Elzey was really merry, and I was delighted to 
see him recovering his spirits, for he has been the pic- 
ture of desolation ever since the crash came. I love 
him and Mrs. Elzey better than almost anybody else 
outside my own family. Father, too, is so fond of 
Mrs. Elzey that he laughs at her fiery rebel talk, no 
matter how hot she grows, and lets her say what he 
wouldn't tolerate in the rest of us. Our household is 
divided into factions — we out-and-out rebels being 
most numerous, but the Unionists (father and mother) 
most powerful; the "Trimmers" neither numerous 
nor powerful, but best adapted to scud between oppos- 
ing elements and escape unhurt by either. I think 
mother is inclined to waver sometimes and join the 
rebels through sympathy with the boys, but she always 
sticks to father in the long run. However, we did 
not quarrel at all to-day ; we Rebs had such strong re- 
enforcements that the others had no showing at all. 

We had a good dinner, too — mock turtle soup, bar- 
becued lamb, and for dessert, sponge pudding with 
cream sauce, and boiled custard sweetened with 
sugar — no sorghum in anything. I have not seen such 
a feast on our table for a long time, and we all ate 
like ogres. The lamb, alas ! was the pet Mrs. Jordan 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 275 

had sent Marsh. It was mischievous, eating things 
in the garden, and we too near starvation to let go any 
good pretext for making way with it, so Marsh was 
persuaded to consent to the slaughter and Garnett took 
advantage of the occasion to feast his friends, and the 
wolf in the fable never fell upon his victim more 
ravenously than we upon poor little Mary Lizzie, as 
Mrs. Jordan had christened her pet. The pudding 
and boiled custard were due to an order father has 
sent to Augusta for groceries, and mother felt so tri- 
umphant over the prospect of having something in the 
pantry again, that she grew reckless and celebrated 
the event by using up all the sugar she had in the 
house. There was plenty of everything, so Mett re- 
covered her appetite and I suddenly lost my fondness 
for cornfield peas. 

May 30, Tuesday. — Rain all day, but we had a jolly 
time, nevertheless. After dinner we played euchre, 
with gingercakes for stakes, and when the bank broke 
on them, descended to a game of '' Muggins." The 
captain gave us all mustaches, and we put on hats and 
coats and went to visit Aunt Sallie. Mett and Henry 
fought a duel with popguns, and when we saw Gen. 
Elzey coming up the avenue, we turned our popguns 
on him, till at last father said we were getting so bois- 
terous he had to call us to order. Gen. Elzey stayed 
to tea, and Gardiner Foster dropped in. The general 
wore a gray coat from which all the decorations had 
been ripped off and the buttons covered with plain 



276 THE^^AR-TIME JOURNAL 

gray cloth, but he would look like a soldier and a gen- 
tleman even in a Boston stove-pipe hat, or a suit of 
Yankee blue. Some of our boys put their discarded 
buttons in tobacco bags and jingle them whenever a 
Yank comes within earshot. Some will not replace 
them at all, but leave their coats flying open to tell the 
tale of spoliation. Others put ridiculous tin and horn 
buttons on their military coats. The majority, how- 
ever, especially the older ones, submit in dignified 
silence to the humiliating decree. Old-fashioned citi- 
zen's suits that were thrown aside four years ago are 
now brought out of their hiding-places, and the dear 
old gray is rapidly disappearing from the streets. Men 
look upon our cause as hopelessly lost, and all talk of 
the Trans-Mississippi and another revolution has 
ceased. Within the last three weeks the aspect of af- 
fairs has changed more than three years in ordinary 
times could have changed it. It is impossible to write 
intelligibly even about what is passing under one's 
eyes, for what is true to-day may be false to-morrow. 
The mails are broken up so that we can send letters 
only as chance offers, by private hand, and the few 
papers we get are published under Yankee censorship, 
and reveal only what the tyrants choose that we shall 
know. 

May 31, Wednesday. — Out nearly all day, returning 
calls with Mary Day. She is very delicate, and does 
not care much for general society, but we have so many 
pleasant people in the house that it is never dull here. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 277 

She plays divinely on the piano, and her music adds a 
great deal to the pleasure of the household. 

The newcomers under Capt. Schaeffer seem to be as 
fond of our grove as were Capt. Abraham's men. 
Some of them are always strolling about there, and 
this morning two of them came to the house and asked 
to borrow 'Ginny Dick's fiddle! I suppose they are 
going to imitate their predecessors in giving negro 
balls. Abraham's men danced all night with the odor- 
ous belles, and it is said the *' righteous Lot " himself 
was not above bestowing his attentions on them. I 
hope Dick will have more self-respect than to play for 
any such rabble. He always was a good negro, except 
that he can't let whisky alone whenever there is a 
chance to get it. Poor darkeys, they are the real vic- 
tims of the war, after all. The Yankees have turned 
their poor ignorant heads and driven them wild with 
false notions of freedom. I have heard several well- 
authenticated instances of women throwing away their 
babies in their mad haste to run away from their homes 
and follow the Northern deliverers. One such case, 
Capt. Abraham himself told father he saw in Missis- 
sippi. Another occurred not a mile from this town, 
where a runaway, hotly pursued by her master, threw 
an infant down in the road and sped on to join the 
" saviors of her race," with a bundle of finery clasped 
tightly in her arms. Our new ruler is as little dis- 
posed to encourage them in running away as was 
" Marse Lot," but their heads have been so turned by 



278 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the idea of living without work that their owners are 
sometimes obHged to turn them off, and when they 
run away of their own accord, they are not permitted 
to come back and corrupt the rest. In this way they 
are thrown upon the Yankees in such numbers that 
they don't know what to do with them, and turn the 
helpless ones loose to shift for themselves. They are 
so bothered with them, that they will do almost any- 
thing to get rid of them. In South-West Georgia, 
where there are so many, they keep great straps to 
beat them with. Mrs. Stowe need not come South for 
the Legree of her next novel. Yankees always did 
make notoriously hard masters; I remember how 
negroes used to dread being hired to them, before the 
war, because they worked them so hard. 

The great armies have about all passed through, and 
now are coming the sick from the hospitals and 
prisons, poor fellows, straggling towards their homes. 
They often stop to rest in the cool shade of our grove, 
and the sight of their gray coats, no matter how ragged 
and dirty, is refreshing to my eyes. Two Missourians 
came to the house yesterday morning for breakfast, 
and mother filled them up with everything good she 
could find, and packed them up a generous lunch be- 
sides. She is a better rebel than she thinks herself, 
after all. If anybody in the world does merit good 
usage from all Southerners, it is these brave Missou- 
rians, who sacrificed so much for our cause, in which 
they had so little at stake for themselves. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 279 



CHAPTER VI 

FORESHADOWINGS OF THE RACE PROBLEM 

June I — July 16, 1865 

Explanatory Note. — I would gladly have left out the 
family dissensions about politics with which this and the 
preceding chapter abound, could it have been done con- 
sistently with faithfulness to the original narrative 
which I have sought to maintain in giving to the public 
this contemporary record of the war time. It is due to 
my father's memory, however, to say that his devotion 
to the Union was not owing to any want of sympathy 
with his own section, but to his belief that the interests 
of the South would be best served by remaining under 
the old flag. No man was ever in more hearty accord 
with our civilization and institutions than he. The ques- 
tion with him was not whether these ought to be pre- 
served, but by what means their safety could best be 
assured. His judgment told him that secession must 
inevitably be a failure, in any case. Even could we have 
held our own in the face of the overwhelming odds 
against us, and established our independence, he believed 
that the disintegrating forces of inter-state jealousies and 
the intrigues of self-seeking politicians would soon have 
dissolved the bonds of a loosely-organized confederation, 
based on the right of secession, and left us in the end, 
broken and divided, at the mercy of our powerful cen- 
tralized neighbor. I think, too, his common sense told 
him that slavery was bound to go, sooner or later, and if 



28o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

emancipation must come, it would be better that it should 
take place peacefully and by pare fully prearranged steps 
than with the violence and unreason which he foresaw 
were sure to follow in case of war. He was a large slave- 
holder himself, and honestly believed, like most of his 
class, that a condition of mild servitude secured by strict 
regulations against abuses, was the best solution of the 
*' negro problem " bequeathed us by our ancestors. We 
were in the position of the man who had the bull by 
the horns and couldn't let loose if he wanted to, for fear 
of being gored. Yet, in spite of the dangers and diffi- 
culties that beset this course, his pride and faith in the 
future of the great republic his father had fought for, 
were so great, that if forced to choose, he would have 
preferred emancipation, under proper safeguards, rather 
than disruption of the Union. 

But while he believed that peaceable and gradual eman- 
cipation would have been a lesser evil than disunion, he 
was bitterly and unalterably opposed to negro suffrage, 
and regarded it as the greatest of all the evils brought 
upon us by the war. He used to say in the early days, 
when the possibility of such a thing first began to be 
talked of among us, that it would be better to concede 
everything else, and accept any terms we could get, no 
matter how hard, provided this one thing could be averted, 
than risk the danger of provoking the North, by useless 
resistance, to employ this deadliest weapon in the armory 
of strife to crush us. Such advice was unpopular at the 
time, but it was a mere question of policy. He deplored 
the misfortunes of the South as much as anybody; we 
differed only in our opinion as to who was to blame 
for them, and how they were to be remedied. We laid 
all our sufferings at the door of the hated Yankees; he 
blamed the authors of the secession movement—" the fool 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 281 

secessionists," he used to call them, when angry or heated 
by contradiction, but more commonly, '' the poor fools," 
in a tone of half-pitying rebuke, just as he had spoken of 
them on that memorable night when the bells were ringing 
for the secession of his State. 

It was probably his warmth in advocating this policy to 
" agree with the adversary quickly " lest a worse thing 
should befall us by delay, that led to his action at the 
public meeting referred to in the text. What was said and 
done on that occasion, and the substance of the resolutions 
that gave such offense, I know no more to this day than 
when the account in the journal was penned. The sub- 
ject was never alluded to between us and our father. 
Whether the course of events would have been altered 
if counsels such as his had prevailed, no one can tell. 
The passion and fury of the time were not favorable to 
moderation, and the fatal mistake was made, that has 
petrified the fifteenth amendment in our national consti- 
tution, and injected a race problem into our national life. 
There it stands to-day, a solid wedge of alien material 
cleaving the heart wood of our nation's tree of life, and 
throwing the dead weight of its impenetrable mass on 
whatever side its own interest or passion, or the influence 
of designing politicians may direct it. 



June I, Thursday. — I dressed up in my best, intend- 
ing to celebrate the Yankee fast by going out to pay 
some calls, but I had so many visitors at home that 
I did not get out till late in the afternoon. ' I am sorry 
enough that Lincoln was assassinated, Heaven knows, 

but this public fast is a political scheme gotten up to 
19 



282 TH?>¥AR-TIME JOURNAL 

throw reproach on the South, and I wouldn't keep it 
if I were ten times as sorry as I am. 

The " righteous Lot " has come back to town. It 
is uncertain whether he or Capt. Schaeffer is to reign 
over us; we hope the latter. He is said to be a very 
gentlemanly-looking person, and above associating 
with negroes. His men look cleaner than the other 
garrison, but Garnett saw one of them with a lady's 
gold bracelet on his arm, which shows what they are 
capable of. I never look at them, but always turn 
away my head, or pull down my veil when I meet any 
of them. The streets are so full of negroes that I 
don't like to go out when I can help it, though they 
seem to be behaving better about Washington than in 
most other places. Capt. Schaeffer does not encour- 
age them in leaving their masters, still, many of them 
try to play at freedom, and give themselves airs that 
are exasperating. The last time I went on the street, 
two great, strapping wenches forced me off the side- 
walk. I could have raised a row by calling for pro- 
tection from the first Confederate I met, or making 
complaint at Yankee headquarters, but would not stoop 
to quarrel with negroes. If the question had to be 
settled by these Yankees who are in the South, and see 
the working of things, I do not believe emancipation 
would be forced on us in such a hurry; but unfortu- 
nately, the government is in the hands of a set of crazy 
abolitionists, who will make a pretty mess, meddling 
with things they know nothing about. Some of the 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 283 

Yankee generals have already been converted from 
their abolition sentiments, and it is said that Wilson 
is deviled all but out of his life by the negroes in 
South- West Georgia. In Atlanta, Judge Irvin says 
he saw the corpses of two dead negroes kicking about 
the streets unburied, waiting for the public ambulance 
to come and cart them away. 

June 4, Sunday. — Still another batch of Yankees, 
and one of them proceeded to distinguish himself at 
once, by " capturing " a negro's watch. They carry 
out their principles by robbing impartially, without re- 
gard to " race, color, or previous condition." 'Ginny 
Dick has kept his watch and chain hid ever since the 
bluecoats put forth this act of philanthropy, and 
George Palmer's old Maum Betsy says that she has 
" knowed white folks all her life, an' some mighty 
mean ones, but Yankees is de fust ever she seed mean 
enough to steal fum niggers." Everybody suspected 
that mischief was afoot, as soon as the Yankees began 
coming in such force, and they soon fulfilled expecta- 
tions by going to the bank and seizing $ioo,oCK) in 
specie belonging to one of the Virginia banks, which 
the Confederate cavalrymen had restored as soon as 
they found it was private property. They then ar- 
rested the Virginia bank officers, and went about town 
" pressing " people's horses to take them to Danburg, 
to get the " robbers " and the rest of the money, which 
they say is concealed there. One of the men came to 
our house after supper, while we were sitting out on 



284 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

the piazza, and just beginning to cool off from a furi- 
ous political quarrel we had had at the table. Father 
could not see very well without his glasses, and mis- 
took him for a negro and ordered him off — an error 
which I took care not to correct. He then made his 
errand known, and produced an order from Capt. 
Abraham for father's carriage horses. Garnett and 
Capt. Hudson quickly moved towards him, ready to 
resist any insolence. He was mighty civil, however, 
and tried to enter into conversation by remarking 
upon the pleasantness of the weather, but people about 
to be robbed of their carriage horses are not in a mood 
for seeing the pleasant side of things and nobody took 
any notice of him, except old Toby, who is too sensible 
a dog and too good a Confederate to tolerate the 
enemies of his country. I don't know how father and 
Garnett managed it, but the fellow finally went off 
without the horses, followed by a parting growl from 
Toby. 

After this interruption we resumed our conversa- 
tion, and became so much interested that father, Gar- 
nett, Capt. Hudson, and I sat up till twelve o'clock, 
much to the disgust of Mett and Mary Day, who were 
trying to sleep, in rooms overlooking the piazza. It 
was not politics, this time, either, but the relative merits 
of Dickens and Thackeray, and I think it would be 
much better if we would stick to peaceful encounters 
of this sort instead of the furious political battles we 
have, which always end in fireworks, especially when 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 285 

Henry and I cross swords with father — two hot-heads 
against one. 

June 5, Monday. — Went to call on Mrs. Elzey with 
some of our gentlemen, and talk over plans for a 
moonlight picnic on Thursday or Friday night; then 
to see Mrs. Foreman, and from there to the Alexan- 
ders. On my return home, found Porter Alexander 
in the sitting-room, and Garnett came in soon after 
with Gen. Elzey, who staid to dinner. Mother was 
dining out, but fortunately I had a good dinner — 
mock turtle soup, mutton chops, roast lamb with mint 
sauce, besides ham and vegetables. After dinner, I 
had just stretched myself on the bed for a nap, when 
Jim Bryan was announced, and before I had finished 
dressing to go downstairs, Garnett sent word that he 
had invited a party of Confederate officers, on their 
way back to Virginia from various points where they 
had been stranded, to take supper with us. Only two 
of them came, however, Maj. Hallet, a very boyish- 
looking fellow for a major, and Capt. Selden, a very 
handsome man, and as charming as he was good-look- 
ing. The others wouldn't come because they said they 
were too ragged and disreputable to go where ladies 
were. Captain Selden said they hadn't twenty-five 
cents among them, and told some very funny stories 
of their pinching and scheming to make their way 
without money. " We have been flanking hotels ever 
since we left Macon," he said with a laugh, and I was 
so glad we had the remains of our good dinner to give 



286 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

them. Maj. Hallet said he staid in Macon four weeks 
after he got his discharge trying to raise money enough 
to pay his fare home, but couldn't clear 50c., and 
Garnett consoled him by confessing that he had just 
had to beg father for a quarter to pay the barber. 
Then Mett and I related some of our house-keeping 
difficulties, including poor '' Mary Lizzie's " tragic 
end, which raised shouts of laughter — and we didn't 
tell the worst, either. It seems strange to think how 
we laugh and jest now, over things that we would 
once have thought it impossible to live through. We 
are all poor together, and nobody is ashamed of it. 
We live from hand to mouth like beggars. Father 
has sent to Augusta for a supply of groceries, but it 
will probably be a week or more before they get here, 
and in the meantime, all the sugar and coffee we have 
is what Uncle Osborne brings in. He hires himself 
out by the day and takes his wages in whatever provi- 
sions we need most, and hands them to father when he 
comes home at night. He is such a good carpenter 
that he is always in demand, and the Yankees them- 
selves sometimes hire him. Father says that except 
Big Henry and Long Dick and old Uncle Jacob, he is 
the most valuable negro he ever owned.* 

* The end of this good old negro is a pathetic example of the 
unavoidable tragedies that have so often followed the severing of 
the old ties between master and servant throughout the South. 
For some years he prospered and became the owner of a comfort- 
able home of his own. When sickness and old age overtook him, 
my father invited him to come and eat from his kitchen as long 




A GROUP OF COXFEDEI^ATK OFFICERS 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 287 

A Yankee came this morning before breakfast and 
took one of father's mules out of the plow. He 
showed an order from " Marse " Abraham and said 
he would bring the mule back, but of course we never 
expect to see it again. I peeped through the blinds, 
and such a looking creature, I thought, would be quite 
capable of burning Columbia. Capt. Schaeffer seems 
to be a more respectable sort of a person than some of 
the other officers. He not only will not descend to asso- 
ciate with negroes himself, but tries to keep his men 
from doing it, and when runaways come to town, he 
either has them thrashed and sent back home, or put 
to work on the streets and made to earn their rations. 
The " righteous Lot " too, to do him justice, does try 
to restrain their insolence on the streets, but mammy, 
who hears all the negro news, says he went to their 
balls and danced with the black wenches! And yet, 



as he lived. It was not advisable to send him food at his home, 
because he had become weak-minded, and there could be no 
assurance that the charity intended for him would not be appro- 
priated by idlers and hangers-on. He came to us regularly for a 
year or two, only missing a day now and then, on account of 
sickness or bad weather. At last, he failed to appear for a longer 
time than usual, and on inquiring at his home, it was found that 
he had not been seen there since he started out, several days 
before, for his accustomed visit to " old marster's kitchen." Search 
was then made and his dead body found in a wood on the out- 
skirts of the village. He had probably been seized with a sudden 
attack of some sort, and had wandered off and lost his way look-* 
ing for the old home. It was a source of bitter regret to my father, 
and to us all, that his faithfulness and devotion should have met 
with no better reward. 



288 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

these " conquering heroes " have the face to complain 
because they are not admitted to our homes — as if we 
would stoop to share their attentions with our negro 
maids, even if there was not a yawning gulf of blood 
between us and them ! People are so outraged at the 
indecent behavior going on in our midst that many 
good Christians have absented themselves from the 
Communion Table because they say they don't feel fit 
to go there while such bitter hatred as they feel to- 
wards the Yankees has a place in their hearts. The 
Methodists have a revival meeting going on, and last 
night one of our soldier boys went up to be prayed for, 
and a Yankee went up right after and knelt at his side. 
The Reb was so overcome by his emotions that he 
didn't know a Yankee was kneeling beside him till Mr. 
Norman alluded to it in his prayer, when he spoke of 
the '' lamb and the lion " lying down together. But the 
congregation don't seem to have been greatly edified 
by the spectacle. Some of the boys who were there 
told me they were only sorry to see a good Confed- 
erate going to heaven in such bad company. It is 
dreadful to hate anybody so, and I do try sometimes 
to get these wicked feelings out of my heart, but as 
soon as I begin to feel a little like a Christian, I hear 
of some new piece of rascality the Yankees have done 
that rouses me up to white heat again. 

June 6, Tuesday. — Strange to say the Yankee 
brought back father's mule that was taken yesterday — 
which Garnett says is pretty good evidence that it 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 289 

wasn't worth stealing. They caught five of the men 
accused of being impHcated in the bank robbery, and 
brought them to Washington, but they have every one 
escaped, and I am glad of it. I would like to see the 
guilty ones punished, of course, but not by a military 
tribunal with no more regard for law and justice than 
these Yankee courts have, where negro evidence counts 
against white people just as much, if not more, than 
a white man's. 

They did not find any of the treasure, and I am glad 
of that, too, for if the proper owners don't get it, I 
would rather Southern robbers should have it than 
Yankee ones. They are making a great ado in their 
Northern newspapers, about the *' robbing of the Vir- 
ginia banks by the Confederates " but not a word is 
said in their public prints about .the $300,000 they 
stole from the bank at Greenville, S. C., nor the thou- 
sands they have taken in spoils from private houses, 
as well as from banks, since these angels of peace 
descended upon us. They have everything their own 
way now, and can tell what tales they please on us, but 
justice will come yet. Time brings its revenges, 
though it may move but slowly. Some future Motley 
or Macaulay will tell the truth about our cause, and 
some unborn Walter Scott will spread the halo of 
romance around it. In all the poems and romances 
that shall be written about this war, I prophesy that 
the heroes will all be rebels, or if Yankees, from some 
loyal Southern State. The bare idea of a full-blown 



290 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Yankee hero or heroine is preposterous. They made 
no sacrifices, they suffered no loss, and there is noth- 
ing on their side to call up scenes of pathos or heroism. 

This afternoon our premises were visited by no less 
a person than the " righteous Lot " himself, who came 
to inspect Capt. Parker's boxes, which he pronounced 
to be Confederate property. 

I had been out plum hunting with the children, and 
was up in my room, changing my dress when he came, 
and I couldn't help feeling " riled " — there is no other 
word that expresses it — when I peeped through the 
blinds and saw him breaking open and prying into 
these poor little relics of the Confederacy. It seemed 
like desecrating the memory of the dead. 

Still another batch of Yankees, on this afternoon's 
train, and our men say their commander promises 
better than even Schaeffer. They say he looks like a 
born gentleman, while Schaeffer was nothing but a 
tailor when he went into the army. A precious lot of 
plebeians they are sending among us! It is thought 
this last comer will rule over us permanently, but they 
make so many changes that no one can tell who is to be 
the next lord paramount. There must surely be some- 
thing in the wind, they are gathering here in such 
numbers. I feel uneasy about Gen. Toombs, who, not 
more than a week ago, was still in the county. 

June 7, Wednesday. — I started out soon after break- 
fast and got rid of several duty visits to old ladies and 
invalids. There is certainly something in the air. The 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 291 

town is fuller of bluecoats than I have seen it in a long 
time. I crossed the street to avoid meeting a squad 
of them, but as I heard some of them make remarks 
upon my action, and didn't wish to do anything that 
would attract their notice, I bulged right through the 
midst of the next crowd I met, keeping my veil down 
and my parasol raised, and it wouldn't have broken my 
heart if the point had punched some of their eyes out. 
While we were at dinner Gardiner Foster and Sallie 
May Ford came in from Augusta, and left immedi- 
ately after for Elberton. They say that when the 
prayer for the President of the United States was read 
for the first time in St. Paul's Church, not a single 
response was heard, but when Mr. Clarke read the 
*' Prayer for Prisoners and Captives," there was a 
perfect storm of '' Amens." 

While we were at dinner the faithful Abraham 
came with a wagon to carry off Capt. Parker's boxes, 
and father sent a servant out and invited him to a seat 
on the piazza till he could go to him. There is some 
talk of father's being made provisional Governor of 
Georgia; that is, his old political friends are anxious 
to have him appointed because they think, that while 
his well-known Union sentiments all through the war 
ought to make him satisfactory to the Yankees, they 
know he would have the interests of Georgia at heart 
and do everything he could to lighten the tyranny that 
must, in any case, be exercised over her. But I think, 
to hold an office under Andy Johnson, even for the 



292 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

good of his country, would be a disgrace, and my dear 
father is too honorable a man to have his name mixed 
up with the miserable gang that are swooping down 
upon us, like buzzards on a battlefield. 

I am afraid we shall have to part with Emily and 
her family. Mother never liked her, and has been 
wanting to get rid of her ever since '' freedom struck 
the earth." She says she would enjoy emancipation 
from the negroes more than they will from their mas- 
ters. Emily has a savage temper, and yesterday she 
gave mother some impudence, and mother said she 
couldn't stand her any longer, and she would have to 
pack up and go. Then Emily came crying to Mett and 
me and said that Mistis had turned her off, and we all 
cried over it together, and Mett went and shut herself 
up in the library and spent the whole afternoon there 
crying over Emily's troubles. Mother hasn't said any- 
thing more about it to-day, but the poor darkey is very 
miserable, and I don't know what would become of 
her with her five children, for Dick can't let whisky 
alone, and would never make a support for them. 
Besides, he is not fit for anything but a coachman, and 
people are not going to be able to keep carriages now. 
I felt so sorry for the poor little children that I went 
out and gave them all a big piece of cake, in commiser- 
ation for the emptiness their poor little stomachs will 
sooner or later be doomed to, and then I went and had 
a talk with father about them. He laughed and told 
me I needn't be troubled; he would never let any of 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 293 

his negroes suffer as long as he had anything to share 
with them, and if mother couldn't stand Emily, he 
would find somebody else to hire her, or see that the 
family were cared for till they could do something for 
themselves. Of course, now that they are no longer 
his property, he can't afford to spend money bringing 
up families of little negro children like he used to, but 
humanity, and the natural affection that every right- 
minded man feels for his own people, will make him 
do all that he can to keep them from suffering. Our 
negroes have acted so well through all these troublous 
times that I feel more attached to them than ever. I 
had a long talk with mammy on the subject to-day, and 
she says none of our house servants ever had a thought 
of quitting us.* She takes a very sensible view of 
things, but mammf is a negro of more than usual 
intelligence. '' There is going to be awful times 
among the black folks," she says. " Some of 'em '11 
work, but most of 'em won't without whippin', and 
them what won't work will steal from them that does, 

* I am sorry to say that my dear old mammy — Sophia by name 
— while so superior, and as genuine a " lady " as I ever knew, in 
other respects, shared the weakness of her race in regard to 
chastity. She was the mother of five children. Her two 
daughters, Jane and Charlotte, of nearly the same age as my 
sister Metta and myself, respectively, were assigned to us as our 
maids, and were the favorite playmates of our childhood. They 
were both handsome mulattoes, and Jane, particularly, I remem- 
ber as one of the most amiable and affectionate characters I have 
ever known. Just before the outbreak of the war they were 
purchased, with mammy's consent and approval, by a wealthy 



294 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

an' so nobody won't have nothin'." She will never 
leave us, unless to go to her children. 

June 8, Thursday. — A letter came from sister while 
we were at table, giving an account of her experience 
with the Yankees. The only way she can manage to 
write to us is by keeping a letter always on hand with 
Mr. Hobbs, in Albany, to be forwarded by any oppor- 
tunity he finds. We write to her by sending our let- 
ters to Gus Bacon, in Macon, and he has so much 
communication with Gum Pond that he can easily for- 
ward them there. The chief difficulty is in getting 
them from here to Macon. Nobody has money to 
travel much, so it is a mere chance if we find anybody 
to send them by. The express will carry letters, but 
it is expensive and uncertain. 

Capt. Hudson has been amusing himself by teaching 
Marshall and some of his little friends to dance. They 
meet in our parlor at six o'clock every afternoon. 
Mary Day and I assist, she by playing the piano, and 
I by dancing with the children and making them keep 
time. At first only the Pope and Alexander children 
and Touch were invited, but so many others have 

white man, reputed to be their father, who set them free, and 
sent them North to be educated. Jane, who had married in the 
meantime, came to visit us about a year after the close of the war, 
and took her mother back home with her. But the dear old lady 
— I use the word advisedly, for she was one in spite of inherited 
instincts which would make it unfair to judge her by the white 
woman's standard — could not be happy amid such changed sur- 
roundings, and finally drifted back South, to live with one of her 
sons, who had settled in Alabama. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 295 

dropped in that I call him *' the village dancing mas- 
ter." Cousin Boiling came over this afternoon, and 
we had a pleasant little chat together till the buggy 
was brought round for Mary and me to drive. We 
went out the Abbeville road, and met four soldiers just 
released from the hospitals, marching cheerily on their 
crutches. I offered to take two of them in the buggy 
and drive them to town, and send back for the others, 
but they said they were going to camp there in the 
fields and would not put me to the trouble. I talked 
with them a long time and they seemed to enjoy telling 
of their adventures. Two of them had very bright, 
intelligent faces, and one smiled so pleasantly that 
Mary and I agreed it was worth driving five miles 
just to see him. I told them that the sight of their 
gray coats did my heart good, and was a relief to my 
eyes, so long accustomed to the ugly Federal blue. 

June 9, Friday. — Mary Wynn has come to make us 
a little visit. None of our gentlemen were home to 
dinner; but came in just before supper, from a private 
barbecue at Capt. Steve Pettus's plantation. They 
tried to tease us by pretending to have forgotten our 
warnings, and indulged too freely in the captain's 
favorite form of hospitality — Henry clean done up, 
Capt. Hudson just far enough gone to be stupid, and 
Garnett not quite half-seas over. They acted their 
parts to perfection and gave us a good laugh, but 
fooled nobody, because we know them well enough 
to be always on the lookout for a joke, and besides, we 



296 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

knew they would not really do such a thing. We 
danced awhile after supper, but it was too hot for exer- 
cise, so we went out on the lawn and sang Confederate 
songs. Some Yankee soldiers crept up behind the rose 
hedge and listened, but Toby's bark betrayed them, so 
we were careful not to say anything that would give 
them an excuse for arresting us. I love all the dear 
old Confederate songs, no matter what sort of dog- 
gerel they are — and some of them are dreadful. They 
remind me of the departed days of liberty and 
happiness. 

June 10, Saturday. — Our pleasant evening had a sad 
termination. We went to our rooms at twelve o'clock, 
and I had just stretched myself out for a good night's 
rest when mother came to the door and said that father 
was very ill. I sprang to the floor and went to get a 
light and hunt for the laudanum bottle, while Metta 
flew to the cottage after Henry. He had gone to see a 
patient, so we sent for Dr. Hardesty. Father began 
to grow better before the doctor arrived, and when he 
went away, was pronounced out of danger, but I 
couldn't help feeling anxious, and slept very little dur- 
ing the night. A man of father's age and feeble 
health cannot well stand a severe attack of illness, and 
I felt cold with terror every time I thought of the 
possibility that he might die. Oh, how I reproached 
myself for being so often disrespectful about his pol- 
itics, and I solemnly vow I will never say anything 
to vex him again. He is the dearest, best old father 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 297 

that ever lived, and I have talked dreadfully to him 
sometimes, and now I am so sorry. He is much better 
to-day — entirely out of danger, the doctor says, but 
must not leave his bed. Mother stays in the room 
reading to him, so Mett and I have to take charge of 
the household. I feel like Atlas with the world on my 
shoulders. 

June 12, Monday. — We had crowds of callers all the 
morning, and some in the afternoon, which was rather 
inconvenient, as Metta and I were busy preparing for 
a little soiree dansante in compliment to our two 
Marys. Some of the guests were invited to tea, the 
others at a later hour, and refreshed between the 
dances with cake, fruit, and lemon punch. I was in 
the parlor from six to seven, helping Capt. Hudson 
with his little dancing circle, and Gen. Elzey came in 
to look on, and we fooled away the time talking till 
I forgot how late it was, and Mary Semmes and the 
captain [her brother-in-law, Spenser Semmes, son of 
the famous Confederate sea-captain] came in before 
I was dressed. I ran upstairs and scuttled into my 
clothes as quick as I could. We had a delightful sup- 
per and everybody seemed to enjoy it. About 25 
were invited in all, and though it rained, only two 
invitations were declined. We had a charming even- 
ing, and everybody was in the best of spirits. In fact, 
I don't think I ever saw people enjoy themselves more. 
We had a few sets of the Lancers and one or two old- 
fashioned quadrilles for the benefit of those who did 
20 



298 THE^AR-TIME JOURNAL 

not dance the round dances, but the square dances 
seem very tame to me, in comparison with a good 
waltz or a galop. Capt. Semmes is delightful to dance 
with. He supports his partner so well, with barely 
the palm of his hand touching the bottom of your 
waist. Metta and I are both charmed with him. 
Instead of the quiet, reserved sort of person he seemed 
when I first met him at the time of his marriage, he is 
as jolly and full of fun as Capt. Irwin himself. When 
I spoke to him about it, he laughed and said : " How 
could you expect a man to be anything but solemn 
at his own wedding? " I turned the tables by saying 
it was the woman's time to look solemn afterwards. 
We kept up a sort of mock warfare the whole evening, 
and I don't know when I have ever laughed more. 
You can be so free and easy with a married man and 
let him say things you wouldn't take from a single one. 
He and Cousin Boiling nicknamed me " Zephyr " be- 
cause they said my hair looked like a zephyr would if 
they could see it. I knew they were poking fun at 
me, for the damp had wilted my frizzes dreadfully, 
and I put my hand up involuntarily, to see if there was 
any curl left in them. 

"You needn't be uneasy," the captain said, '* they 
only need another good pinching. I have pinched 
Paul's hair for her too often not to know the signs." 

Then I said, what was really true, — ^that I had never 
used curling irons in my life. 

" Then you do worse," he answered; " you twist up 



srasasHsasasasHsasciSBSHsasssas-asHsas^sHS-ciSHSHS^STiST" ^HS7>s7»sHsasHSi 




Flora Maxwell 



Rosalie Beirne 
(Mrs. Garnett Andrews, Jr.) 




A GROUP OF CONFEDERATE BELLES 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 299 

your hair in curl papers." I asked if he had ever 
played the part of Mr. Pickwick. He said no, but he 
had been married long enough not to be fooled with 
hot iron and yellow paper devices. " Oh, but it is 
worse even than that sometimes," I acknowledged, 
pulHng out a little bunch of artificial frizzettes that I 
use in damp weather to fill in the gaps of my own, 
'' they are ' false as fair.' " 

He laughed at my frankness and proposed that we 
should have another dance, but I made some excuse, 
and slipped off upstairs to get a look at myself in 
the glass. Between the damp and the dancing, my 
frizzes were in a condition that made me look like a 
Medusa's head. I fastened them down the best I 
could with hairpins and hid the worst-looking under 
a little cluster of rosebuds and then went back to the 
parlor. I wish now that I had never cut off my front 
hair. It has grown too long to frizz, and is still too 
short to do anything else with, and as the false friz- 
zettes I have are made of Metta's and my hair mixed, 
they won't stay curled in damp weather, and so are 
not much of a help. I am tired of frizzing, anyway, 
though it does become me greatly. 

Mary Semmes has told the captain of my enthusias- 
tic admiration for his father, and he has promised to 
give me his autograph. '' I will give you a whole 
letter," he said, '' that he wrote me when I was a 
youngster at school." I am delighted at the idea of 
possessing such a souvenir of the great Confederate 



300 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

sea-captain, the most dashing and romantic hero of 
the war. 

It was two o'clock before our soiree broke up, and 
everybody seemed loath to go, even then. I had trotted 
around so much all day and danced so much at night, 
that my feet ached when I went to bed, as if I were 
a rheumatic old woman. 

June 13, Tuesday. — Mary Wynn has gone home and 
invited us to her house next Monday. Jule Toombs 
has gone out with her, and several others are invited 
to meet us there. The more I know of Mary, the better 
I like her; she is so thoroughly good-hearted. . . . 

June 14, Wednesday. — We all spent the morning at 
Mrs. Paul Semmes's and had a charming time. The 
two Marys (Mary Semmes and Mary Day) both play 
divinely, and made music for us, while the captain 
made mirth. He showed me a beautiful collection of 
seaweeds, and some interesting cartes de visite, among 
them one of his father, the great Confederate admiral. 
He showed me a page in his photograph book, which 
he said he was saving for my picture, and I told him 
he should have it when I get to be a " celebrated fe- 
male." He gave me two of his father's letters — one 
of them about the fitting up of his first ship, the 
Sumter. 

June 15, Thursday. — This has been a day of jokes — 
as crazy almost as if it were the First of April. It all 
began by Capt. Hudson trying to get even with me 
for fooling him about those colored cigarette papers 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 301 

the other night, and laughing at him for his misunder- 
standing of some compHmentary remarks that Mary 
Day had made about Sidney Lanier. After we had 
each told everything we could think of to raise a laugh 
against the other, he put on a serious face, and 
began to hint, in a very mysterious way, that he 
thought this house was a dangerous place. " There 
are ghosts in it," he said, and then, to our utter amaze- 
ment, went on to tell, as if he were relating a genuine 
ghost story, about Capt. Goldthwaite's encounter with 
Cousin Liza the other morning, as he was coming out 
of his room to take the early train. He evidently 
didn't know, when he started, who the real ghost was, 
but he saw at once, from our laughter, that it was 
neither Cora nor Metta nor me, so he said it must lie 
between Cousin Liza and Mary Day, and he would 
find out by telling the story at the dinner table, and 
watching their faces, which one it was. We thought 
this would be a good joke, and it turned out even better 
than we expected, when Cousin Liza walked right into 
the trap, before he had said a word, by making a 
mysterious allusion to her adventure which she thought 
nobody but herself and Mett and me would understand. 
Then, when she had betrayed herself as completely 
as she could, the captain gravely told his ghost story. 
But instead of laughing with the rest of us, she got 
on her high horse and gave him a piece of her mind 
that silenced him for that time as a story-teller. Every- 
body wanted to laugh, and everybody was afraid to 



302 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

speak, so we all looked down at our plates and ate as 
hard as we could, in dead silence. I expected every 
minute to hear somebody break out in a tell-tale 
snicker, but we held in till dinner was over. Father 
never allows anybody to make fun of cousin, if he 
can help it, and he called Metta and me to him when 
we got up from the table and gave us such a raking 
over that we ran upstairs and buried our heads in 
the pillows so that we could laugh as much as we 
pleased without being heard. While we were lying 
there, cousin came in and entertained us with such a 
criticism of the captain and his ghost story that we 
didn't dare to uncover our faces. Later in the after- 
noon, when we came downstairs, Garnett proposed 
that we should all go out in the grove and laugh as 
loud as we chose. Henry and Cora joined us, and we 
went to the seat under the big poplar, and when he 
had arranged us all in a row, Capt. Hudson gave the 
word of command: ''Attention! Make ready! 
Laugh ! " threw up his cap and shouted like a school- 
boy. I don't know what makes people so foolish, but 
I laughed as I don't believe I ever did before in my 
life, and all about nothing, too. We all whooped and 
shouted like crazy children. But the mystery remains; 
where did Capt. Hudson learn about that encounter? 
I am sure Capt. Goldthwaite couldn't have told him, 
because he was on his way to take the train when he 
ran upon her in the entry. Wouldn't it be a comedy, 
though, sure enough, if there should come an alarm of 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 303 

fire in the night, and we would all have to run out in 
our homespun nightgowns! 

June 21, Wednesday. — We staid only two days at 
the Wynns', because we wanted to get back home be- 
fore Mary Day leaves. She decided not to go till 
Thursday, but couldn't stand the long drive into the 
country, and we didn't want to let her go without see- 
ing her again. 

We reached home just before dinner and found the 
town agog with a difficulty between Charley Irvin and 
the new commander, a New York counter-jumper 
named Cooley, who now reigns over the land. Charley 
had thrashed old Uncle Spenser for being impudent to 
his mother, and the Yankee fined him fifteen dollars 
for it. When Charley went to pay the money, he said 
to the captain, in the midst of a crowd of men on the 
square : 

'' Here is fifteen dollars you have made out of me. 
Put it in your pocket; it will pay your board bill for a 
month, and get you two or three drinks besides." 

The captain turned to Mr. Barnett, who was stand- 
ing by, and asked: " What is the law in this country? 
Is a man allowed to defend himself when he is in- 
sulted?" 

'* That depends on the nature of the insult," Mr. 
Barnett answered. 

" Do you think this one sufficient to warrant me in 
knocking that man down ? " inquired the Yankee. 

" I do think so," said Mr. Barnett. 



304 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

'' Yes ! " cried Charley, '' if you have any spirit in 
you, you ought to knock me down. Just come and 
try it, if you want a fight; I am ready to accommodate 
you." 

But it seems he wasn't '' spoiling for a fight " after 
all, and concluded that it was beneath the dignity of 
a United States officer to engage in a street broil.* 

Miss Kate Tupper is at her brother's, completely 
broken in health, spirit, and fortune. She was in An- 
derson (S. C.) during the horrors committed there, and 
Mr. Tupper thinks she will never recover from the 
shock. All her jewelry was taken except a gold thim- 
ble which happened to be overlooked by the robbers, 
and her youngest brother was beaten by the villains 
about the head and breast so severely that the poor boy 
has been spitting blood ever since. Old Mrs. Tupper, 
one of the handsomest and best-preserved old ladies of 
my acquaintance, turned perfectly gray in five days, 
on account of the anxieties and sufferings she under- 
went. The two daughters of the old gentleman with 
whom Cousin Liza boarded that summer she spent in 
Carolina before the war, were treated so brutally that 



* It is the mature judgment of " Philip sober " that this Federal 
officer was acting the part of a gentleman in avoiding a difficulty 
which, in the excited state of public feeling, must have led to 
a general vie/^e. My recollection is that his whole conduct, 
while in command of our town, was characterized by a desire to 
make his unpopular office as little offensive as possible, and I take 
pleasure in stating that his efforts were afterwards more fully 
appreciated by the people. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 305 

Mr. Tupper would not repeat the circumstances even 
to his wife. Oh, how I do hate the wretches! No 
language can express it. Mr. Alexander tells me about 
a friend of his in Savannah who has taught her chil- 
dren never to use the word " Yankee " without putting 
some opprobrious epithet before it, as " a hateful Yan- 
kee," " an upstart of a Yankee," " a thieving Yankee," 
and the like; but even this is too mild for me. I feel 
sometimes as if I would just like to come out with a 
good round " Damn ! " 

Father, I am glad to say, has not been appointed 
provisional governor, so I can say what I please about 
our new rulers without any disrespect to him. I know 
he would have done everything in his power to protect 
our people if he had been appointed, but at the same 
time it would have been his duty to do many hard 
things, from the obolquy of which he is now spared, 
and his name will not be stained by being signed to 
any of their wicked orders. My dear old father, in 
spite of his love for the Union, is too honorable a man, 
and too true a gentleman to be mixed up in the dirty 
work that is to be done. 

June 22, Thursday. — Mary Day and her brother left 
for Macon, which leaves us with nobody outside our 
own family, except Capt. Hudson. Our gentlemen 
Were from home nearly all day, attending a political 
meeting at which father. Col. Weems, and Capt. Hud- 
son were to be the principal speakers. We had a great 
deal of company after dinner, and a number of friends 



306 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

to look on at the dancing lesson. Gen. Elzey, and 
Capt. and Mary Semmes seemed greatly amused, and 
I invited them to come and look on whenever they feel 
like it. Our house is a great resort for Confederate 
officers out of employment; when they are bored and 
don't know what else to do with themselves, they are 
sure of finding a welcome here, and I am only too glad 
to do all in my power to entertain the dear, brave 
fellows. 

Henry came home to supper with his first greenback, 
which he exhibited with great glee. " It is both a 
pleasure and a profit," he said as he held up his dollar 
bill in triumph. '* I earned it by pulling a Yankee's 
tooth, and I don't know which I enjoyed most, hurting 
the Yankee, or getting the money." 

Capt. Cooley has established a camp in Cousin Will 
Pope's grove, and the white tents would look very 
picturesque there under the trees, if we didn't know 
they belonged to the Yankees. Our house is between 
their camp and the square, so that they are passing 
our street gate at all hours. We cannot walk in any 
direction without meeting them. They have estab- 
lished a negro brothel, or rather a colony of them, on 
the green right in front of our street gate and between 
Cousin Mary Cooper's and Mrs. Margaret Jones's 
homes. Whenever Mett and I walk out in company 
with any of our rebel soldier boys, we are liable to 
have our eyes greeted with the sight of our conquerors 
escorting their negro mistresses. They even have the 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 307 

insolence to walk arm in arm with negro women in our 
grove, and at night, when we are sitting on the piazza, 
we can hear them singing and laughing at their de- 
testable orgies. This establishment is the greatest in- 
sult to public decency I ever heard of. It is situated 
right under our noses, in the most respectable part of 
the village, on the fashionable promenade where our 
citizens have always been accustomed to walk and 
ride in the evenings. I took a little stroll with Capt. 
Hudson a few evenings ago, and my cheeks were made 
to tingle at the sight of two Yankee soldiers sporting 
on the lawn with their negro " companions." There 
is no way of avoiding these disgusting sights except by 
remaining close prisoners at home, and Cousin Mary 
and Mrs. Jones can't even look out of their windows 
without the risk of having indecent exhibitions thrust 
upon them.* 

Charley says that Capt. Cooley went to him this 
morning and told him that he would have punished 
old Spenser for his insolence to Mrs. Irvin if Charley 
had complained to him, instead of taking the law into 
his own hands. Charley told him that the protection 
of his mother was a duty that he would delegate to no 
man living while he had the strength to perform it. 
" I'll knock down any man that dares to insult her," 

* It is possible that these associations may not have been, in all 
cases, open to the worst interpretation, since Northern sentiment 
is, theoretically, at least, so different from ours in regard to social 
intercourse between whites and negroes ; but, from our point of 
view, any other interpretation was simply inconceivable. 



3o8 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

he said, " whether he is a runaway-nigger or a Yankee 
major-general, without asking your permission or any- 
body else's. My life isn't worth much now, anyway, 
and I couldn't lose it in a better cause than defending 
my blind mother." Bravo, Charley! 

I hope the Yankees will get their fill of the blessed 
nigger before they are done with him. They have 
placed our people in the most humiliating position it 
is possible to devise, where we are obliged either to 
submit to the insolence of our own servants or appeal 
to our Northern masters for protection, as if we were 
slaves ourselves — and that is just what they are trying 
to make of us. Oh, it is abominable ! 

June 2^, Friday. — We are going to form a dancing 
club for grown people, to meet once or twice a week at 
our house, as soon as father is well enough. He is 
quite feeble still, and has been ever since that sudden 
attack the other night when Mary Wynn was here. I 
feel very anxious about him and wish there was not 
any such thing in the world as politics, for they are a 
never-ending source of warfare in the house, and I 
believe that has as much to do with his sickness as 
anything else. Poor, dear old father, he can't help 
loving the old Union any more than I can help loving 
the Confederacy. But even if he is a Union man, he is 
an honest and conscientious one, and was just as 
stanch and outspoken in the hottest days of secession 
— even more so than he is now. I will never forget 
that night when the bells were ringing and the town 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 309 

illuminated for the secession of Georgia, how he dark- 
ened his windows and shut up the house, and while 
Mett and I were pouting in a corner because we were 
not allowed to take part in the jubilee, he walked up 
and down the room, and kept saying, as the sound of 
the bells reached us : " Poor fools, they may ring their 
bells now, but they will wring their hands — yes, and 
their hearts, too, before they are done with it!" It 
has all come out very much as he said, but somehow, 
I can't help wishing he was on the same side with the 
rest of us, so there wouldn't be all this quarreling and 
fretting. We are all stirred up now about that public 
meeting yesterday. The whole town is in a ferment 
about some resolutions that were passed. I can't learn 
much about them, but it seems father was active in 
pushing them through. One of them, thanking the 
Yankee officers for their '' courteous and considerate 
conduct," was particularly odious. There was a hot 
discussion of them in the courthouse and Garnett was 
so angry that he left the room and wouldn't go back 
any more. The returned soldiers held an opposition 
meeting after dinner before the courthouse door, and 
declared that instead of repenting for what they had 
done, they were ready to fight again, if they had the 
chance, and they say that if these objectionable resolu- 
tions are published, they will pass a counter set. 
Henry came home furious that father should have been 
mixed up in any such business, but he didn't know 
much more about what happened than I do. He 



EW 



310 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

wouldn't go to either meeting because he said he didn't 
approve the first one, and he didn't want to show dis- 
respect to father by taking part in the second, or letting 
anybody talk to him about it. Henry is like me; he 
can't talk politics without losing his temper, and some- 
times he gets so stirred up that he goes off to his room 
and won't come to the table for fear he might forget 
himself and say something to father that he would be 
sorry for. Serious as it all is, I can't help wanting 
to laugh a little sometimes, in spite of myself, when I 
see him begin to swell up and hurry out of the way, 
as if he had a bomb in his pocket and was afraid it 
would go off before he could get out of the house. 
But it is dreadful; I wonder what we are all coming to. 
There may have been some use in talking and wran- 
gling about what to do, in the beginning, when the 
choice was open to us, but now, as Garnett says, right 
or wrong, w^e are all in the same boat, and the whole 
South has got to sink or swim together. We are like 
people that have left a great strong ship and put out 
to sea in a leaky little raft — some of us because we 
didn't trust the pilot, some, like father, because they 
had to choose between their friends on the raft, and 
comfort and safety aboard the big ship. Now, our 
poor little raft has gone to the bottom, run down by 
the big ship, that in the meantime, has become a pirate 
craft. But father can't see the change. He grew old 
on the big fine ship and longs to get back aboard on 
the best terms he can. And this seems to be about 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 311 

all the choice that is left us; to make such terms as 
we can with the pirate crew and go into voluntary 
slavery, or resist and be thrown into chains. I don't 
suppose it will make much difference in the end which 
course we take, but it has always been my doctrine 
that if you have got to go to the devil anyway, it is 
better to go fighting, and so keep your self-respect. 

June 25, Sunday. — I feel like Garnett looks — in a 
chronic state of ennui. Poor fellow, he is as unhappy 
as he can be over the wreck of our cause and the ruin 
of his career. 

The latest act of tyranny is that handbills have been 
posted all over town forbidding the wearing of Con- 
federate uniforms. We have seen the last of the be- 
loved old gray, I fear. I can better endure the gloomy 
weather because it gives us gray skies instead of blue. 

June 2y, Tuesday. — I have been trying to take ad- 
vantage of the few days we have been without com- 
pany to look after my own affairs a little, but have not 
even found time to darn my stockings. We have a 
constant stream of visitors, even when there is nobody 
staying in the house, and so many calls to return that 
when not entertaining somebody at home, Metta and 
I are making calls and dropping cards at other people's 
houses. 

I went to see Belle Nash after dinner, before going 
to the bank to dance with the children. She invited 
me to go driving with her, but I declined, and walked 
to the bank with Jim Bryan, who spied me as I was 



312 the'"^ar-time journal 

leaving the Randolph house and bolted after me. He 
was full of news and told me more than I could have 
found out for myself in a year, from the boil on his 
finger to the full and complete history of the old striped 
rag that the Yankees have raised on the courthouse 
steeple, where my lone star once proudly floated. I 
consider that flag a personal insult to Cora and me, 
who made the first rebel one ever raised in Washing- 
ton. And such a time as we had making it, too, for 
we had to work on it in secret and smuggle it out of 
sight every time we heard any one coming, for fear 
father might find out what we were at and put a stop 
to our work. But we got it done, and there it floated, 
while the bells were ringing for secession, just as that 
horrid old Yankee banner floats there now, the signal 
of our humiliation and defeat. Poor, dear, old father, 
my conscience hurts me to think how I have disobeyed 
him and gone against his wishes ever since the war 
began. We are all such determined Rebs that I some- 
times wonder how he can put up with us as well as he 
does — though we do have awful family rows some- 
times. We barely missed one this evening, when I 
came in and commenced to tell the news, but luckily 
the supper bell rang just in the nick of time, though 
father was so upset he wouldn't say grace. That old 
flag started it all. We children were so incensed we 
couldn't hold in, and father reproved us for talking 
so imprudently before the servants. I said I hated 
prudence — it was a self-seeking, Puritanical sort of 



OF A GEORGIA CTRL 313 

virtue, and the Southerners would never have made 
the gallant fight we did, if we had stopped to think of 
prudence. Mother turned this argument against me 
in a way that made me think of the scene in our house 
on the night when that first rebel flag was raised. We 
try to avoid politics at home, because it always brings 
on strife, but a subject of such vital and general inter- 
est will come up, in spite of all we can do. I am afraid 
all this political turmoil has something to do with 
father's illness, and my heart smites me. I don't want 
to be disrespectful to him, but Henry and I are born 
hot-heads, and never can hold our unruly tongues. In 
the beginning, I think a great many people, especially 
the old people, felt, way down in the bottom of their 
hearts, just as father did. Cora says that her grandpa 
was ready to crack anybody on the head with his walk- 
ing stick that talked to him about dissolving the Union, 
and she never dared to open her mouth on the subject 
in his presence, or her father either, though he and all 
the rest of them believe in Toombs next to the Bible. 
I felt differently myself then. Before Georgia se- 
ceded, I used to square my opinions more by father. 
I could see his reasons for believing that secession 
would be a mistake, and wished that some honorable 
way might be found to prevent it. I loved the old 
Union, too — the Union of Washington and Jefferson 
— as much as I hate the new Union of compulsion and 
oppression, and I used to quarrel with Henry and Cora 

for being such red-hot secessionists. Even after the 
21 



1 \^. 



314 THE VTAR-TIME JOURNAL 

fight began, though my heart and soul were always 
with the South, I could still see a certain tragic gran- 
deur in the spectacle of the Great Republic struggling 
desperately for its very existence. On looking back 
over the pages of this diary, I cannot accuse myself of 
unreasonable prejudice against the other side. 

Its pages are full of criticisms of our own people 
all through the war. I could see their faults, and I 
would have done justice to Yankee virtues, if they had 
had any, but since that infamous march of Sherman's, 
and their insolence in bringing negro soldiers among 
us, my feelings are so changed that the most rabid 
secession talkers, who used to disgust me, are the only 
ones that satisfy me now. And I am not the only 
moderate person they have driven to the other extreme. 
Not two hours ago I heard Garnett say that if they 
had shown one spark of magnanimity towards us since 
we gave up the fight, he would be ready to enter their 
service the first time they got into a foreign war. 
'' But now," he says, " I would fight in the ranks of 
any army against them." * 

The next war they get into, I think, will be against 
the negroes, who are already becoming discontented 
with freedom, so different from what they were taught 

* In the face of this bitter animosity, it is curious to know that 
the son of this irreconcilable " rebel," with the full consent and 
approval of his father, raised and commanded a company of 
volunteers in the Spanish-American War — the very first conflict 
in which the United States was involved after the hostile decla- 
ration just recorded — a fact which shows how little fiery talk like 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 315 

to expect. Instead of wealth and idleness it has 
brought them idleness, indeed, but starvation and 
misery with it. There is no employment for the thou- 
sands that are flocking from the plantations to the 
towns, and no support for those who cannot or will not 
work. The disappointed ones are as much incensed 
against their " deliverers " as against us, and when 
they rise, it will not be against either Yankee or South- 
erner, but against the white race. Unfortunately, 
many of them have been drilled and made into soldiers. 
They have arms in their hands, and when the time 
comes, will be prepared to act the part of the Sepoys 
in India, thanks to Northern teaching. At the begin- 
ning of the war I was frightened out of my senses, 
when I read the frightful story of Lucknow and Cawn- 
pore, for fear something of the kind would happen 
here, but the negroes had not been corrupted by false 
teachings then, and we soon found that we had nothing 
to fear from them. Now, when I know that I am 
standing on a volcano that may burst forth any day, I 
somehow, do not feel frightened. It seems as if noth- 
ing worse could happen than the South has already 
been through, and I am ready for anything, no matter 
what comes. The strange part of the situation is that 
there was no danger when all our men were in the 



this and the sophomorical thunder on page 254 counts for now. 
Were it not for the bitter wrongs of Reconstruction and the fatal 
legacy it has left us, the animosities engendered by the war would 
long ago have become what it is the author's wish that this record 
of them should now be regarded — a mere fossil curiosity. 



3i6 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

army and only women left to manage the plantations. 
Sister never even locked her doors at night, though 
there was often not a white man within three miles of 
her; but as soon as the Yankees came and began to 
" elevate the negro " by putting into his ignorant, sav- 
age head notions it is impossible to gratify, then the 
trouble began, and Heaven only knows where it will 
end. A race war is sure to come, sooner or later, and 
we shall have only the Yankees to thank for it. They 
are sowing the wind, but they will leave us to reap the 
whirlwind. No power on earth can raise an inferior, 
savage race above their civilized masters and keep them 
there. No matter what laws they make in his favor, 
nor how high a prop they build under him, the negro 
is obliged, sooner or later, to find his level, but we 
shall be ruined in the process. Eventually the negro 
race will be either exterminated or reduced to some 
system of apprenticeship embodying the best features 
of slavery, but this generation will not live to see it. 
Nothing but experience, that " dear teacher " of fools, 
will ever bring the North to its senses on this point, 
and the fanatics who have caused the trouble will be 
slow to admit the falsity of their cherished theories 
and confess themselves in the wrong. The higher 
above his natural capacity they force the negro in their 
rash experiments to justify themselves for his emanci- 
pation, the greater must be his fall in the end, and the 
more bitter our sufferings in the meantime. If insur- 
rections take place, the United States government is 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 317 

powerful enough to prevent them from extending very 
far, but terrible damage might be done before they 
could or would send succor. Our conquerors can pro- 
tect themselves, but would they protect us, '' rebels and 
outlaws " ? Think of calling on the destroyers of Co- 
lumbia for protection ! They have disarmed our men, 
so that we are at their mercy. 

They have a miserable, crack-brained fanatic here 
now, named French, who has been sent out from some- 
where in New England to '' elevate " the negroes and 
stuff their poor woolly heads full of all sorts of impos- 
sible nonsense. Cousin Liza was telling us the other 
day what she had heard about him, how he lives among 
the negroes and eats at the same table with them, and 
she got so angry before she finished that she had to 
stop short because she said she didn't know any words 
bad enough to describe him. Mett told her that if she 
would go out and listen the next time Emily got into a 
quarrel with some of the other negroes, she wouldn't 
have to consult the dictionary, and Cora said if we 
would wait till Henry came home, she would call him 
up and let him say '' damn " for us, and then we had 
to laugh in spite of our indignation. 

But I am going to stop writing, or even thinking 
about politics and everything connected with them if 
I can. I wish I had a pen that would make nothing 
but blots every time I start the subject. It is an evil 
one that drags my thoughts down to low and mean 
objects. There is an atmosphere of greed and vulgar 



3i8 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

shopkeeper prosperity about the whole Yankee nation 
that makes the very poverty and desolation of the 
South seem dignified in comparison. All the best peo- 
ple in the Border States — Kentucky, Missouri, Mary- 
land, and poor little Delaware — were on our side, while 
the other kind sided with the Yankees. This is why 
all the soldiers and refugees from these States are so 
nice; the other sort staid at home to make money, 
which people with vulgar souls seem to think will make 
them ladies and gentlemen. . . . 

June 28, Wednesday. — Tom Cleveland and Jim 
Bryan spent the morning with us, and Jim says the 
young men of the village are trying to contrive some 
way of getting to the top of the courthouse steeple at 
night and tearing down the Yankee flag, but there is 
no possible way save through the building itself, where 
the garrison is quartered, and they keep such close 
watch that there is no chance to carry out the design. 

Arch has '' taken freedom " and left us, so we have 
no man-servant in the dining-room. Sidney, Garnett's 
boy, either ran away, or was captured in Virginia. To 
do Arch justice, he didn't go without asking father's 
permission, but it is a surprise that he, who was so 
devoted to " Marse Fred," should be the very first of 
the house servants to go. Father called up all his 
servants the other day and told the men that if they 
would go back to the plantation in Mississippi and 
work there the rest of the year, he would give them 
seven dollars a month, besides their food and clothing; 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 319 

but if they chose to remain with him here, he would 
not be able to pay them wages till after Christmas. 
They were at liberty, he told them, either to stay with 
him for the present, on the old terms, or to take their 
freedom and hire out to somebody else if they pre- 
ferred; he would give them a home and feed them till 
they could do better for themselves. In the altered 
state of his fortunes it will be impossible for him to 
keep up an establishment of twenty or thirty house 
servants and children, who are no longer his property. 
The poor ignorant creatures have such extravagant 
ideas as to the value of their services that they are 
sadly discontented with the wages they are able to get. 
There is going to be great suffering among them, for 
Southerners will not employ the faithless ones if they 
can help it, and the Yankees cannot take care of all the 
idle ones, though they may force us to do it in the end. 
I feel sorry for the poor negroes. They are not to 
blame for taking freedom when it is brought to their 
very doors and almost forced upon them. Anybody 
would do the same, still when they go I can't help feel- 
ing as if they are deserting us for the enemy, and it 
seems humiliating to be compelled to bargain and hag- 
gle with our own servants about wages. I am really 
attached to father's negroes, and even when they leave 
us, as Alfred, Arch, and Harrison have done, cannot 
help feeling interested in their welfare and hoping they 
will find good places. None of ours have ever shown 
a disposition to be insolent, like some of those I see 



320 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

on the streets. Arch was perfectly respectful to the 
last, and did his work faithfully, but then he left us 
in a sneaky way, slipping off just before dinner-time, 
without telling us good-by, or saying a word to any- 
body but father, as if he was ashamed of himself. 
Mammy says that the real cause of his departure is 
the fear that his wife will come after him from the 
plantation, and as he is about to marry Mrs. Pettus's 
Betsy, that would be an inconvenience. I wonder if 
the Yankees will force them to observe the marriage 
tie any better than they have done in the past. I don't 
think it exactly consistent with the honor of freemen 
to have wives scattered about, all over the country. 
Isaac refuses to go back to the plantation because he 
has a new wife here and an old one there that he don't 
want. He says he *' ain't a-goin' to leave a young 
'oman and go back to an old one." Mammy tells me 
all this gossip about the other negroes. She is not 
going to leave us till she can hear from Jane and Char- 
lotte, who are supposed to be in Philadelphia. She 
says she will stay with us if she can't go to them, and 
more could not be expected of her. It is not in human 
nature that fidelity to a master should outweigh mater- 
nal affection, though mammy has always been more 
like a member of the white family than a negro. Ex- 
cept Uncle Osborne, Big Henry is the most shining in- 
stance of fidelity that has come under my observation. 
He was hired at the salt works in Alabama, but made 
his escape with Frank and Abram and Isham, and all 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 321 

of them worked their way back here to father. As 
soon as he found that father wanted him to go back 
to the plantation but had no money to pay his way, 
Henry packed his wallet and marched off, saying he 
could work his way. The other three went also, and 
father got some soldiers who were going in that direc- 
tion to take them along as their servants. " Well done, 
good and faithful ones." 

In black contrast to Big Henry's shining example, 
is the rascality of Aunty's fallen saint, old Uncle Lewis. 
He is an old gray-haired darkey who has done nothing 
for years but live at his ease, petted and coddled and 
believed in by the whole family. The children called 
him, not " Uncle Lewis," but simply '' Uncle," as if he 
had really been kin to them. Uncle Alex had such 
faith in him that during his last illness he would often 
send for the old darkey to talk and pray with him, and 
as Uncle Lewis is a great Baptist, and his master was 
an equally stanch Methodist, they used to have some 
high old religious discussions together. A special 
place was always reserved for him at family prayer, 
which Uncle Alex was very particular that all the serv- 
ants should attend, and " brother Lewis " was often 
called on to lead the devotions. I have often listened 
to his prayers when staying at Aunty's, and was 
brought up with as firm a belief in him as in the Bible 
itself. He was an honored institution of the town — 
scarcely less so than old Uncle Jarret, the old shouting 
sexton of the Methodist church. But now see the de- 



322 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

basing effects of the new regime in destroying all that 
was most good and beautiful in these simple-hearted 
folk. Uncle Lewis, the pious, the honored, the vener- 
ated, gets his poor old head turned with false notions of 
freedom and independence, runs off to the Yankees 
with a pack of lies against his mistress, and sets up a 
claim to part of her land ! Aunty found him out and 
turned him off in disgrace. She says that he shall 
never put his foot on her lot again. She knows, how- 
ever, that he is in no danger of suffering for anything, 
because his sons have excellent trades and can take 
good care of him. One of them, our Uncle Osborne, 
is as fine a carpenter as there is in the county. He 
was one of the most valuable servants father owned. 
He, too, has taken freedom now, but he is not to blame 
for that. He stood by us when we most needed him, 
and now he has a right to look out for himself. Father 
says he shall never suffer for anything as long as he 
lives and has a roof over his own head. 

I don't know what is to become of the free negroes. 
Every vacant house in town is packed full of them, and 
in the country they are living in brush arbors in the 
woods, stealing corn from the fields and killing the 
planters' stock to feed on. The mongrel population 
on the green in front of our street gate has increased 
until all the tents and hovels are teeming like a pile 
of maggots. They are very noisy, especially at night, 
when they disturb the whole neighborhood with their 
orgies. They are growing more discontented every 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 323 

day, as freedom fails to bring them all the great things 
they expected, and are getting all manner of insolent 
notions into their heads. Last Sunday a Yankee sol- 
dier, with two black creatures on his arms, tried to 
push Mr. and Mrs. — (name illegible) off the sidewalk 
as they were coming home from church. Mr. E. 
raised his cane, but happily for him, a Yankee officer 
stepped up before he had time to use it and reproved 
the soldier for his insolence. 

June 29, Thursday. — Cousin Jim Farley and Mr. 
Cullom arrived from Montgomery to look after the 
cotton father has been keeping stored for them here. 
They brought us all manner of nice things — candy, 
raisins and almonds, canned fruits, fish, sardines, 
cheese, and other foreign luxuries, including a basket 
of Champagne. I never had such a feast in my life 
before — at least, I never enjoyed one so much because 
I never was so starved out. It is the first time in four 
years that I have tasted any candy except home-made, 
and generally sorghum, at that. But the best of all are 
two beautiful new hats, in the very latest fashion, that 
Cousin Jim brought to Mett and me. We were so 
delighted that we danced all over the house when not 
standing before the glass to admire ourselves. We 
dressed up in our new finery and went to the bank, 
where Mrs. Elzey and the general and Capt. Semmes 
were sitting on the porch, and we dazzled them with 
our glory. 

Will Ficklen and Charley Irvin called soon after 



324 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

breakfast, to ask us to join in getting up a barbecue 
they want to have on the 6th of July, for the purpose 
of showing their contempt for the 4th, which the 
negroes and Yankees are going to celebrate. But 
while we sympathize with their intentions, we think it 
best to have nothing to do with the barbecue, as it is a 
public affair, and as father's Union sentiments are so 
well known, it might look like a want of respect for 
him. Garnett, Capt. Semmes, and the Elzeys all ad- 
vise against it, too, and I agree with them, that simply 
to ignore the Yankees is more dignified than any posi- 
tive action. The Irvin Artillery are at the head of the 
project and we didn't want to hurt the feelings of the 
boys by giving them a direct refusal, so we just told 
them that we couldn't promise to serve on their com- 
mittee without first consulting our father and brothers. 
July I, Saturday. — Our gentlemen, with about 12 
others in the village, gave a barbecue complimentary 
to Capt. Stephen Pettus, who has entertained them so 
often. Barbecues, both public and private, are raging 
with a fury that seems determined to make amends for 
the four years intermission caused by the war, but I 
think there ought to be another intermission, and a 
good long one, after the results of the carousal to-day. 
I never did believe in these entertainments for men 
only; they are so apt to forget themselves when there 
are no ladies about to keep them straight. The whole 
party came back to town with more liquor aboard than 
they could hold, except Eddie Morgan; he was the only 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 325 

sober one in the whole crowd. ... It really would 
have been comical if it hadn't turned out so seriously. 
Our Beau Brummel came blundering home just before 
supper, while I was talking with some visitors on 
the piazza, with just sense enough left to know that he 
couldn't trust himself. He tried very hard not to be- 
tray his condition, and spoke with such a precision and 
elaboration of utterance that I could hardly keep from 
laughing outright. When the visitors had gone he 
began to protest, in language worthy of Sir Piercy 
Shafton, that he was not drunk — he never did such an 
ungentlemanly thing as that — but only a little tight, 
and then asked in a tone of the most exaggerated 
courtesy, like a courtier addressing his sovereign, if I 
would not have a brush and comb brought out to him 
on the piazza, so that he could make himself presenta- 
ble before mother saw him ! It was all so absurd that 
I fairly roared, in spite of myself. I lit a candle and 
started him upstairs to his room, where he managed, 
somehow or other, to get himself in hand by supper- 
time. Garnett came straggling in just before we got 
up from the table and was so afraid of betraying him- 
self that he never once opened his mouth to say a word 
to anybody. We can always tell when he has made a 
slip overboard by the rigid silence he maintains. It is 
as full of meaning as the *' beau*s '* overstrained 
courtesy. 

But the serious part of the business is Henry's ex- 
ploit. The whole affair might have passed off as a 



HE W 



326 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

joke, but for that. He came home too far gone for 
anything except to be put to bed, but before making 
that proper disposition of himself, he went round to 
the hotel, where Capt. Cooley and the other officers of 
the garrison are boarding, and " cussed out " the whole 
lot. Garnett, and Anderson Reese, who had taken 
charge of him, did their best to hold him back, and 
apologized to the commandant, explaining that Henry 
was in liquor, and they hoped no notice would be taken 
of his irresponsible utterances. But the Yankee saw 
that they were pretty far gone on the same road them- 
selves, and I suppose did not regard the apology any 
more than he ought to have regarded the insult, under 
the circumstances. To make matters worse, when 
they had at last gotten Henry quiet and were carrying 
him off home, as they were passing through the square, 
he happened to spy a party of Yankee soldiers on a 
corner, and stopped to pay his respects to them in lan- 
guage which made them furious. Garnett tried to 
appease them by explaining his brother's condition, 
which was sufficiently apparent of itself to anybody 

not looking for an excuse to annoy a " d d " 

rebel. 

Capt. Cooley is reported to have said that if the 
barbecue projected for the purpose of throwing 
contempt on the Fourth does take place, he will 
leave this post and send a garrison of negro troops 
here. If he carries out the threat I hope our 
citizens will resist, be the consequences what they 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 327 

may. I would rather die than submit to such an 
indignity. 

July 2, Sunday. — Henry's escapade threatens to turn 
out a very serious affair. Soon after breakfast there 
came an anonymous note to father saying that Capt. 
Cooley had started for Augusta on the morning train, 
but had left orders with one of his lieutenants to arrest 
Henry immediately and send him to jail. Father went to 
see the officer and prevailed on him to put off the arrest 
for one hour, till Henry could find friends to stand 
bail for him. This saved him from being sent to jail, 
but I fear it may go hard with him in the end. Any 
Southerner would have dropped the matter at once 
after finding that Henry was in his cups and not re- 
sponsible; or if he chose to resent the insult, would 
have demanded satisfaction in the proper way, like a 
gentleman; but this Yankee shopkeeper prefers to de- 
fend his honor with the long arm of the law. Our 
returned soldier boys have bedeviled him in a thousand 
ways that he can't take up, just like we school children 
used to worry our Yankee teachers before the war, and 
he is no doubt glad to have an opportunity to make an 
example of somebody. I am afraid the weight of his 
wrath will fall heavy on poor Henry, unless father can 
have influence enough to save him. Henry did wrong, 
undoubtedly, and he knows it. He is so mortified at 
the thought of his indiscretion that he hadn't the face 
to show himself even to the family till late this even- 
ing, and then he looked so sheepish and guilty that we 



328 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

all felt sorry for him and tried to make him feel more 
comfortable by acting as if we didn't know of what he 
had done. After all, such accidents are liable to hap- 
pen when men get off by themselves, with no ladies 
present to act as a restraint on them. Anybody else 
might have done the same thing, and we can all sym- 
pathize with him anyway, in wanting to " cuss out " 
the Yankees. Garnett and Capt. Hudson pretend to 
be on the stool of repentance too, but every now and 
then they forget their role of " bons gargons '' and 
begin to tell some of the funny things that were done 
by the " other fellows." * 

July 3, Monday. — The boys came again to beg us 
to attend their barbecue on the 6th, but after the 
recent experiences in our family, I don't think any- 
body can blame us for preferring to keep quiet 
awhile. 

Cousin Liza says people are talking dreadfully about 
that meeting at the courthouse the other day. None 
of us knows exactly what did happen. The boys 
(Henry and Garnett) wouldn't stay to hear, and we 



* I have hesitated a long time about the propriety of publishing 
the story of this unlucky barbecue, but some of the incidents con- 
nected with it are so characteristic of the time that I have decided 
not to depart from my rule of using the utmost frankness possible 
in giving to the public this record of what may now be almost 
considered a bygone age. No entertainment was complete with- 
out "something to drink," and an occasional over-indulgence, if 
not carried too far, nor repeated too often, was regarded, at worst, 
as a pardonable accident. 

The sequel to my brother Henry's adventure has been lost in 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 329 

are all afraid to ask father, because some of us would 
be sure to say something that would start a family 
row. If it wasn't for Cousin Liza and her little black 
umbrella, that go poking into everything, we should 
never have known what a tempest was stirring outside. 
But I don't believe anybody in Washington would say 
anything bad about father ; they all know him too well. 
I wish Mr. Cotting and Mr. Akerman were both a 
thousand miles away. They are his chief cronies, and 
I shouldn't be surprised if they were at the bottom of 
the whole thing. 

July 4, Tuesday. — I was awakened at daybreak by 
the noisy salutes fired by the Yankees in honor of the 
day. They had a nigger barbecue out at our old picnic 
ground, the Cool Spring, where they no doubt found 
themselves in congenial society, with their black 
Dulcineas. They have strung up one of their 
flags across the sidewalk, where we have to pass 
on our way to the bank, so I shall be forced to walk 
all around the square, in future, to keep from going 
under it. 

The decent people of the town celebrated this anni- 



the numerous mutilations which this part of the MS. has suffered. 
To the best of my recollection the "little Yankee shopkeeper" 
acted the part of a gentleman throughout. A small fine of some 
$25 or $30 was imposed, with a private explanation from the Fed- 
eral captain that he would have been glad to overlook the matter 
altogether, but his men were so incensed by Henry's language to 
them that he was obliged to impose some penalty in order to sat- 
isfy them. 

22 



330 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

versary of our forefathers' folly by keeping themselves 
shut up at home — except those of us who celebrated 
it very appropriately by attending a funeral. Mary 
Wynnes mother died yesterday and was brought to 
town this afternoon for interment. Mrs. Ben Jordan 
and Mrs. Wilkerson came in with the cortege and 
dined at our house, and Mett and I couldn't do less 
than go with them to the funeral. It was three o'clock, 
and the heat and dust nearly killed me, but as the old 
lady had to die anyway, I am glad she furnished such 
a lugubrious celebration for the '' glorious Fourth." 
The Yankees gained it no favor, waking people up be- 
fore day with their vexatious salutes. Every good 
rebel, as he turned over in bed, gave them and their 
day a silent execration for disturbing his slumbers. 
I never heard such hideous noises as they made — 
but I suppose it was only proper that the reign of 
pandemonium should be celebrated with diabolical 
sounds. 

Our negroes all went to the mongrel barbecue, so 
Mett and I had most of the housework to do, and were 
tired out when the day was over. 

July y, Friday. — The rebel " cue " came off 
yesterday, in spite of Capt. Cooley's threats to 
stop it, but Capt. Semmes tells me it was hot enough 
to roast a salamander, and nobody enjoyed it very 
much. 

The Toombs girls spent the morning with us. John 
Ficklen dropped in and we kept tolerably cool in our 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 331 

large, airy parlor, but I have been too ailing and lan- 
guid all the week to take much interest in any- 
thing. After dinner I arranged my hair in a new 
style and crawled out to the dancing circle. The 
Elzeys called after tea, but I could not interest myself 
even in them. I am really ill — so weak that I can 
scarcely talk, and with all my fondness for company, 
it taxes my powers to entertain the visitors who 
call 

The Yankees have pulled down the shanties in front 
of our street gate at last, and turned the negroes out 
of doors. They are living as they can, under trees and 
hedges, and some of them have no shelter but an old 
blanket stretched over a pole, or a few boards propped 
against a fence. It is distressing to see the poor 
wretches in such a plight, but what is to be done? 
The Yankees have taken them out of our hands, and 
we Southerners are not to blame for what happens to 
them now. I hate to go into the street, because in 
doing so I have to pass that scene of wretchedness and 
vice. They live by stealing — and worse. Everybody 
in the neighborhood suffers from their depredations. 
The common soldiers associate with them, but the 
officers do not, under the present administration. They 
seem to have no scruples about beating and ill-using 
them if they trouble their sacred majesties. One of 
their favorite punishments is to hang offenders up by 
the thumbs, which I think is a horrible piece of bar- 
barism. It would be much more merciful, and the 



332 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

negroes would understand it better, if they would give 
them a good whipping and let them go. I am almost 
as sorry for these poor, deluded negroes as for their 
masters, but there is indignation mingled with my pity. 
There are sad changes in store for both races, who 
were once so happy together. I wonder the Yankees 
do not shudder to behold their work. My heart sick- 
ens when I see our once fat, lazy, well-fed servants 
reduced to a condition as miserable as the most 
wretched of their brethren in Africa, and the grand 
old planters, who used to live like lords, toiling for 
their daily bread. Maj. Dunwody is trying to raise a 
little money by driving an express wagon between 
Washington and Abbeville, and Fred writes from 
Yazoo City that he found one of his old neighbors, the 
owner of a big plantation in the Delta, working as a 
deck-hand on a dirty little river steamer, hardly fit 
to ship cotton on. 

Capt. Cooley has returned from Augusta, and they 
say he is going to deal hardly with Henry. The young 
men of the county take so much interest in the affair, 
and express such sympathy with him, that there are 
threats of a general row. . . . Two ladies of our family 
have been insulted by Yankee soldiers. One of them 
met Cousin Liza alone in the street as she was coming 
home late this afternoon, and said, with an insolent 
laugh : ** How do you do, my dear ? " Another ran 
against Metta on the sidewalk and almost knocked her 
down. We don't dare to speak of these things where 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 333 

the gentlemen of the family can hear us, for fear they 
might knock somebody down, and cause fresh trouble. 
It wouldn't do for any of this family to raise another 
row while Henry's case is hanging in the balance. We 
have to submit to everything put upon us, or humiliate 
ourselves still more by appealing . . .* 

July 14, Friday. — Making calls all the morning with 
Mrs. Elzey, and came home to dinner very tired and 
hungry. The general and Mrs. Elzey are really going 
to leave on Monday with Capt. Hudson, if they can 
raise the money. 

Col. Coulter Cabel, an army friend of Garnett's, en 
route from Richmond to Augusta, is stopping with us. 
He was a dashing cavalry officer in the dear old rebel 
army, but does not look very dashy now, in the suit of 
seedy black resurrected from heaven knows where, to 
which the proscription of the gray and the exigencies 
of a Confederate pocketbook have reduced him. It 
is a droll thing to see the queer costumes our Confed- 
erate officers have brought to light out of old chests 
and lumber rooms, since they have had to lay 
aside their uniforms, but I like them better in the 
meanest rags to which they can be reduced than I 
did even in the palmiest days of brass buttons and 
gold lace. 

Gen. Elzey took tea with us and the Lawtons called 
afterwards to see Col. Cabel. Capt. and Mary 

* Three pages are missing here. This part of the MS. is much 
torn and defaced. 



334 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Semmes, Ed Morgan, Will Ficklen, and a number of 
others, came round in the face of a big thunder cloud, 
to dance. We had a merry evening and kept it up till 
12 o'clock. The general danced round dances for the 
first time in five years, and chose me for his partner 
every time, which I took as a great compliment. He 
said he liked my way of dancing. I was agreeably 
surprised that the evening should have been such a 
success, for the threatening weather kept away nearly 
half our club members, and I was so disappointed at 
not being able to get my new white dress from 
Mrs. Crenshaw that I didn't expect to enjoy myself 
at all. 

July 1 6, Sunday. — The Elzeys' last day in Wash- 
ington, and our last pleasant evening together. They 
took tea with us, and we tried hard to be cheerful, but 
the thought that we shall probably never all sit together 
again around that cheery old table, where so many 
friends have met, came like a wet blanket between us 
and mirth. The captain and Cousin Boiling are going 
to make their home in New Orleans. The Elzeys re- 
turn to Baltimore. 

. . . When Touchy's turn came to say good-by, 
he didn^t seem to know exactly how far to go, but 
Metta told him that if he grew up to be as nice as he 
is now, she would want to kiss him and couldn't, if 
we ever met again, so she would take the opportunity 
now — and so we gave the handsome boy a smack all 
round, and sent him off laughing. The general took 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 335 

leave earlier than usual, and with sad hearts we saw 
his soldierly figure in the well-known white army 
jacket, moving, for the last time, down the front walk. 
"General," I said, as we parted at the head of the 
steps, " I feel if I am shaking hands with the Con- 
federacy; you are the last relic of it that is left us." 
. . . [MS. torn.] 



336 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 



CHAPTER VH 
THE PROLOGUE TO RECONSTRUCTION 

Explanatory Note. — I have no apology to make for 
the indignation and resentment that fill the remaining 
pages of this record. The time has come, I believe, when 
the nation's returning sense of justice has outgrown the 
blind passions engendered by war sufficiently to admit 
that the circumstances narrated fully justified the feelings 
they awakened. These events mark the beginning of that 
deplorable succession of blunders and outrages that has 
bequeathed us the most terrible legacy of the war — the 
race problem ; a problem which, unless the common sense 
of the nation shall awaken, and that right early, to the 
simple fact that a horse and an ox, or an elephant and an 
antelope, cannot pull together in the same harness, will 
settle itself before another generation has passed in a 
tragedy compared with which the tragedy of the Civil 
War was child's play. 



July — , . . . . — The Toombs girls invited us to 
meet Mr. Van Houten, a blind musician from Eufaula, 
this afternoon. He played beautifully, but wanted 
you to be always going into raptures over him. He 
is so sensitive, that he can't bear to be reminded of 
his blindness in any way, and I couldn't help admir- 
ing one very tactful thing Jenny did to spare him. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 337 

He is accustomed to have people shake hands with 
him when they are introduced, as that is the only form 
of greeting he can perceive, and when Jenny intro- 
duced Mary Lane, he put out his hand as usual, for 
her to take. Mary wasn't noticing, and failed to re- 
spond, so Jenny quietly slipped her own hand into his, 
and he never knew the difference. I wonder, though, 
he didn't detect the subterfuge, for the touch of blind 
people is very sensitive, and Jenny's hand is so exqui- 
sitely soft and delicate that there are not many others 
in the world like it. I tried to imitate Jenny's con- 
siderateness by talking about subjects where blind peo- 
ple can feel at home, and when the rest of the company 
rushed to the windows to see the negroes pass on their 
way to hear the New England apostle. Dr. French, 
give his lecture, I tried to keep him from feeling that 
he was losing anything, by pretending that I would 
much rather stay inside and listen to the music. But 
all the time I was craning my neck, to see what was 
going on. The negroes looked very funny in their 
holiday attire, going to hear "the Frenchman," as 
they call this missionary from the Freedman's Bureau, 
expound to them the gospel according to Phillips, Gar- 
rison & Co. The meeting was held in Mr. Barnett's 
grove, much against his will, it is said, but he didn't 
think it wise to refuse, and the negroes flocked there 
by thousands. I could hardly have believed there were 
so many in the county. The Yankees tried to get 
father's grove for their precious conventicle, but to my 



338 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

delight he refused, on the ground that he didn't want 
his grass trampled on, . . . [MS. mutilated; two 
pages missing.] 

. . . We have great fears of a negro garrison 
being sent here, and then, Heaven have mercy on us ! 
The white Yankees are getting so rude that ladies are 
afraid to walk on the streets alone. Corinne Lawton 
and Mrs. Matilda Dunwody have both been insolently 
ordered off the sidewalk by Yankee soldiers, to make 
way for their negro companions, and it is said some 
of them have expressed a determination to insult every 
Southern woman they meet. The only thing they al- 
lege against us is that we are such d d rebels we 

take no more notice of them than if they were dogs, 
and will not even look toward them when they pass — 
as if we hadn't the right to turn away from sights that 
hurt our eyes! 

July 21, Friday. — Garnett returned at two o'clock 
this morning from Abbeville, bringing a wounded sol- 
dier in the carriage with him, and parting messages 
from our friends. Father sent them as far as Abbe- 
ville in his carriage, and from there they expect to 
make their way somehow back to their homes. We 
had no callers till late in the afternoon, which was a 
great relief, for I feel used up, and the weather is too 
hot for anything but to sit undressed in my own room. 
I go in deshabille most of the time, now that the house 
is free of guests, keeping a dress and coiffure ready to 
fling on at a moment's notice, when visitors are seen 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 339 

coming up the avenue. I think it is dreadfully vulgar 
to go dowdy about the house, but what is one to do 
when one has hardly clothes enough to be respectable 
when one goes out, and no money to buy any more? 
And we have to do so much hard work, too, now, that 
our clothes would not last a month if we were to wear 
them around all the time, when there is no one here. 
It is too hot to wear clothes, anyway. I sometimes 
wish that old Mother Eve had not set the fashion for 
fig leaves. An opportune thunder storm, the only one 
we have had since Monday, came up just in time to 
cool the air for us and catch Dr. French in the midst 
of his daily ceremonies with the negroes. I was sorry 
for the poor darkeys to get their Sunday clothes spoilt, 
but I hope " the Frenchman " will catch a cough that 
will stop that pestiferous windpipe of his and follow 
him to — his last resting place, wherever that may be. 
These hypocritical Puritans love to nurse and coddle 
themselves and enjoy the fat of the land, but they will 
find no worshiping Mrs. Wellers here to feed their 
" shepherd " on pineapple rum and toast. The negro 
sisters adore him, but they are too poor to feast him, 
except on what they can pilfer, and Southern cup- 
boards are, as a rule, too empty just now to furnish fat 
pickings. The poor dupes say they believe he is Jesus 
Christ — '' anyhow, he has done more for them than 
Jesus Christ ever did." They don't know what horrid 
blasphemy they are talking, and so are not to be held 
responsible. My feeling for them is one of unmixed 



340 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

pity. Take it all in all, they have behaved remarkably 
well, considering the circumstances. The apostles of 
freedom are doing their best to make them insolent and 
discontented, and after awhile, I suppose, they will 
succeed in making them thoroughly unmanageable, but 
come what will, I don't think I can ever cherish any 
very hard feelings towards the poor, ignorant blacks. 
They are like grown up children turned adrift in the 
world. The negro is something like the Irishman in 
his blundering good nature, his impulsiveness and im- 
providence, and he is like a child in having always had 
some one to think and act for him. Poor creatures, 
I shudder to think of what they must suffer in the 
future, and of what they are going to make this whole 
country suffer before we are done with them. The 
streets of Washington are crowded all the time with 
idle men and women who have no means of support. 
They are loitering in the shade of every hedge and 
tree, and gossiping in every cabin doorway. Where 
they lodge, Heaven only knows, but how they are fed, 
the state of our orchards and cornfields can testify. 
Capt. Cooley hung up two by the thumbs the other 
day, for robbing father's orchard, but the discipline 
was of no avail, for we have not gathered a full-grown 
peach or pear this season. Roasting-ears are pleasant 
food, and to be had for the — ^taking; our early corn 
gave out before we had used it a week. Ben Jones 
shot a negro the other night, for stealing in Mr. Wad- 
dey's garden, and it is a miracle that he escaped being 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 34i 

put in jail. Fortunately the negro wasn't hurt. 
Negroes may kill white men whenever they please, pro- 
vided the white man wears not a blue coat, but woe to 
the white man that touches a negro ! . . . 

That murder case into which Gen. Wild and Dr. 
French have been prying for the last week has wrought 
these apostles up to a state of boundless indignation, 
and father is afraid it will bring their vengeance upon 
the town. He is counsel for the defense, and I don't 
think he feels any too much respect for his clients, 
though it is his duty, as their lawyer, to make out the 
best case he can for them. He don't say much about 
the case because conversation on such subjects nearly 
always brings on a political row in the family, and we 
are all so afraid of starting a fracas that we are con- 
strained and uneasy whenever anything touching on 
politics, no matter how remotely, is mentioned. How- 
ever, from the little I have heard father tell, I am 
afraid this murder is a very ugly affair. It seems his 
clients are accused of having killed an old negro woman 
because she left her master's plantation to go off and 
try the blessings of freedom. She certainly was an 
old fool, but I have never yet heard that folly was a 
capital offense. One of the men is said to have shot 
her, while the other broke her ribs and beat her on the 
head with a stone till she died. They left her unburied 
in a lonely place, and the body was not discovered till 
ten days after. In spite of the stench, father says 
Gen. Wild examined the body with ghoulish curiosity. 



342 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

even pulling out the broken ribs and staring at them. 
And all the while the old woman's son stood looking 
on with stolid indifference, less moved than I would be 
over the carcass of a dead animal. Gen. Wild was 
bred a doctor and didn't seem to mind the most sicken- 
ing details. Father says he would rather have the 
sharpest lawyer in Georgia as his opposing counsel 
than these shrewd, painstaking Yankees. Capt. 
Cooley was sent out to collect evidence, and even 
brought back the stone which was said to be the one 
with which the poor old creature was beaten on the 
head. There is only negro evidence for all these hor- 
rors, and nobody can tell how much of it is false, but 
that makes no difference with a Yankee court. Father 
thinks one of the men is sure to hang, and he has very 
little hope of saving the other. The latter is a man of 
family, and his poor wife is at Mrs. Fitzpatrick's hotel, 
almost starving herself to death from grief. She has 
left her little children at home by themselves, and they 
say that when the Yankees went there to arrest their 
father, they were so frightened that two of them went 
into convulsions; they had heard such dreadful things 
about what the Yankees had done during the war. The 
younger of the two accused men is only twenty years 
old, and his poor old father hangs around the court- 
room, putting his head in every time the door is opened, 
trying to catch something of what is going on. He 
is less privileged than our dog Toby, who follows 
father to the courthouse every day, and walks about 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 343 

the room as if it belonged to him, smelling at the Yan- 
kees, and pricking up his ears as if to ask what busi- 
ness they had there. Father says he would not, for 
millions, have had such a case as this come under the 
eyes of the Yankees just at this time, for they will be- 
lieve everything the negroes say and put the very worst 
construction on it. Brutal crimes happen in all coun- 
tries now and then, especially in times of disorder and 
upheaval such as the South is undergoing, but the 
North, fed on Mrs. Stowe's lurid pictures, likes to be- 
lieve that such things are habitual among us, and this 
horrible occurrence will confirm them in their opinion. 
Another unfortunate affair took place the other 
night, in Lincoln County. The negroes were holding 
a secret meeting, which was suspected of boding no 
good to the whites, so a party of young men went out 
to break it up. One of the boys, to frighten them, 
shot off his gun and accidentally killed a woman. He 
didn't mean to hurt anybody, but the Yankees vow 
they will hang the whole batch if they can find them. 
Fortunately he has made his escape, and they don't 
know the names of the others. Corrie Calhoun says 
that where she lives, about thirty miles from here, over 
in Carolina, the men have a recipe for putting trouble- 
some negroes out of the way that the Yankees can't 
get the key to. No two go out together, no one lets 
another know what he is going to do, and so, when 
mischievous negroes are found dead in the woods, no- 
body knows who killed them. All this is horrible, I 



344 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

think. If they want to bushwhack anybody, why 
don't they shoot Yankees? The poor negroes don't 
do us any harm except when they are put up to it. 
Even when they murdered that white man and quar- 
tered him, I beheve pernicious teachings were respon- 
sible. Such things happen only in places where the 
negroes have been corrupted by the teachings of such 
wretches as this French and Wild. 

I shall never feel anything but friendship towards 
father's '* freedmen," though most of the males have 
left us. I do not blame them for trying to make some- 
thing for themselves. They will have no " ole mars- 
ter " now to look out for them when they are sick and 
old, so they must learn to take care of themselves. 
They have lost the advantages of slaves, they must gain 
those of freemen. It is the Yankees, the accursed 
Yankees, who have done all the mischief and tried to 
set them against us. There has been more insolence 
and crime among them since that rascal French came 
here with his pernicious teachings, than in all the 200 
years since they were brought into the country. His 
escort of negro troops flirt around with the negro 
women — a ridiculous travesty of what used to take 
place among ourselves when Washington was filled 
with Confederate officers and their brave men. Our 
Cinthy has two admirers among them who call on her 
every night, and she generally makes her appearance 
to wait on the tea-table with her face whitened with 
flour— contributions being levied on our biscuit allow- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 34S 

ance, for the purpose of beautifying her complexion. 
My bedroom windows overlook the back yard, and 
when Emily's house is open, as it always is in summer, 
every word spoken there is distinctly audible in my 
room. It is as good as an evening at the Negro Min- 
strels. I am often regaled with scraps of conversa- 
tion and pert witticisms that are such absurd parodies 
upon what takes place in our own drawing-room that 
they seem almost like a deliberate attempt to burlesque 
Metta and me. After all, there is a great deal that is 
farcical mixed up with all this tragedy we are living 
through. Dr. French has begun his reforms by giving 
out that he will remarry all negro couples who have 
not been lawfully married already by a Christian 
minister. He worded his notice in the most sensa- 
tional style, like the news columns in the New York 
" Herald," and ordered the white ministers of Wash- 
ington to read it out from their pulpits. Mr. Tupper 
refused, but the other two complied. No private prop- 
erty could be obtained for the accommodation of the 
apostle and his followers — not that anybody objected 
to the harmless farce of remarrying the negroes, but 
nobody wanted their grounds polluted by the spoutings 
of such a creature. His very presence in a town where 
his first footfall would once have been his death war- 
rant, is a sufficient disgrace. 

After fruitless efforts to secure father's. Cousin Will 
Pope's, and Mr. Barnett's groves, he had to take the 
negro cemetery for the scene of his performances. Ac- 



346 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

cordingly, about 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the candi- 
dates for double matrimonial honors went trooping 
out to their cemetery on the Tan Yard Branch to be 
married over again. If there is anything in omens, 
never were nuptials more inauspicious. The ceremo- 
nies were interrupted by a thunder storm that drenched 
the composite bridal party and all the spectators — the 
" shepherd " taking care to shelter himself under a big 
umbrella that one of his worshipers held over him. 
Mammy, who tells me all the negro news, says that 
thirty-three couples were married. Among them was 
our Charity, who six years ago was lawfully married 
in the Methodist church here, to Mr. Waddy's Peter. 
I remember how father joked Peter, when he came to 
ask for Charity, about having him for a *' nigger-in- 
law," but now. Charity has taken to herself Hamp, one 
of father's plantation hands — a big, thick-lipped fel- 
low, not half as respectable looking as Peter — but there 
is no accounting for taste. Several other marriages 
of the same " double " kind took place, which would 
bring the saintly doctor under the laws against bigamy, 
if anybody cared enough about the matter to prosecute 
him. I was amused at Charity when she came home 
in the evening. She went about her work as usual, 
but when I stepped into the back porch to get some 
water, she stopped in the midst of it to tell me that 
she now had two names, like white folks. 

" Oh,*' said I, laughing, " what is your new 
name? " 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 347 

"Tatom; Fse Mrs. Tatom now, and Hamp is Mr. 
Sam Ampey Tatom.'* 

It sounded so like " amputation " that I could hardly 
keep a straight face. 

" And how did Hamp get all that name? " I asked. 

" His grandfather used to belong to a Mr. Tatom," 
she answered, '' so he took his name for his entitles. 
Dr. French tole us we mus' all have surnames now, an* 
call our childern by 'em, an' drop nicknames." 

I notice that the negroes seldom or never take the 
names of their present owners in adopting their '' en- 
titles," as they call their surnames, but always that 
of some former master, and they go as far back as 
possible. It was the name of the actual owner that 
distinguished them in slavery, and I suppose they wish 
to throw off that badge of servitude. Then, too, they 
have their notions of family pride. All these changes 
are very sad to me, in spite of their comic side. There 
will soon be no more old mammies and daddies, no 
more old uncles and aunties. Instead of *' maum 
Judy " and " uncle Jacob," we shall have our " Mrs. 
Ampey Tatoms," and our *' Mr. Lewis Williamses." 
The sweet ties that bound our old family servants to 
us will be broken and replaced with envy and ill-will. 
I am determined it shall not be so with ours, unless 
they do something to forfeit my respect. Father be- 
friends his men in every possible way. When they 
fail to get work elsewhere, he tells them they can al- 
ways come to him and he will give them food and 



348 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

shelter till they can do better. He tries to find situa- 
tions for them, and they in return seem as fond of us 
all as ever. Father's negroes always were devoted to 
him, and well they might be, for he was a good, kind 
master to them. Emily's brother, Arch, comes to see 
us often, and takes Emily's children in hand and gives 
any of them a switching that need it. He is hired to 
Dr. Hardesty, but says that if '' Marse Fred " can 
afford to keep him, he will stay with him when he 
comes back to Georgia. This state of things is about 
the best we can expect under the new regime, but there 
is no telling how long the Yankees will let well enough 
alone. The servants who are still with us are lazy, 
but not insolent, though the teachings of French and 
Wild will no doubt soon make them so. Mammy says 
that Dr. French told them in one of his speeches that 
some of them would be called upon to rule over the 
land hereafter — a pretty strong hint at negro suffrage. 
Capt. Cooley is reported as saying : " Damn French ! 
I had trouble enough with the negroes before he came, 
and now they are as mad as he is." Bravo! little 
Yank; I really begin to respect you. 

July 24, Monday. — We had a dancing party at Dr. 
Robertson's in the evening. Most of the young men 
go to parties fully armed. The parlor mantelpiece at 
the bank was covered with pistols brought there by our 
escorts, and one of our amusements, between dances, 
was to examine them and learn to cock them. Some 
of them were very pretty, with silver and ivory mount- 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 349 

ings. Garnett made us go and return by back streets 
in order to avoid, as much as possible, meeting with 
negroes and Yankees. A man of honor can hardly be 
expected not to shoot on the spot any wretch who 
should dare to insult a lady under his charge, and the 
consequences of reckless firing have been made so 
apparent that prudent people think it best to avoid 
difficulties by keeping out of their way as much as we 
can. The negroes are frequently out very late at 
night, attending the meetings of a society they have 
formed, called the " Sons of Benevolence," for the 
protection of female virtue ( !) and Heaven — or 
rather the other place — only knows what else. But 
every housekeeper knows that the gardens and hen- 
roosts in the neighborhood suffer on the nights when 
they hold their meetings. Only two of their acts have 
become known to me, and these are not very creditable 
to the morals of a religions society conducted by re- 
ligious people. They arraigned Mrs. Gabe Toombs's 
Chloe for " keeping company with a Yankee," but 
when she declared that she " hadn't never kep' com- 
pany with nobody but Joe Barnett " (who has another 
wife, if not two or three of them) they let her off. 
They also reported Mrs. Margaret Jones to the com- 
mandant, as suffering a sick man (in her employ) to 
lie dying of neglect, and subjected her to the annoyance 
of a visit from one of the army surgeons, while to 
my certain knowledge she has had a physician to see 
him every day, and nurses him as faithfully as if he 



3SO THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

were her own servant. Dr. French has attended some 
of their meetings, and if -any mischief is afoot, no 
doubt he is at the bottom of it. 

July 25, Tuesday. — The Dunwodys had a conversa- 
tion party in the evening, and I enjoyed it only toler- 
ably. There were not gentlemen enough to go round, 
and that is always awkward. Capt. Semmes was not 
there, either, but Anderson Reese, who is almost as 
nice, supplied his place. As Jenny wasn't there, he 
took me as second best, and we spent half the evening 
tete-a-tete. He is delightful, in spite of being in love 
with another girl, and still wears a gray coat with brass 
buttons. I felt as if carried back to the old Confed- 
erate days whenever I looked at him. I came home at 
I o'clock, dissatisfied with myself, as I always am after 
a conversazione, because I say so many foolish things 
when I talk too much. I couldn't sleep, either, after 
going to bed, because Mett went off to her own room 
next to father's and left me alone in the end room, 
with that awful garret door between me and every- 
body else in the house. I am like the little boy that 
said he wasn't afraid to go through the graveyard 
alone at night, he was just ashamed. I don't believe 
in ghosts, but they make me just as nervous as if I 
did — and that big garret is such a horrible, gloomy 
place. 

July 27, Thursday. — Seabrook Hull and Brewer 
Pope called at 5 o'clock this afternoon, which put me 
out of temper because I am never up so early this hot 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 3Si 

weather. Took tea at the Lawtons, where we had a 
delightful evening. 

I am always so frightened and uneasy in the streets 
after dark that it greatly detracts from the pleasure 
of going out. We can generally avoid the Yankees 
by taking the back streets, but the negroes swarm in 
every by-way and rarely condescend to give up the 
sidewalk, so we have to submit to the indignity of being 
crowded off by them. There was a time when such 
conduct would have been rewarded with a thrashing — 
or rather, when such conduct was unheard of, for the 
negroes generally had good manners till the Yankees 
corrupted them by their *' evil communications." It 
is sad to think how things are changing. In another 
generation or two, this beautiful country of ours will 
have lost its distinctive civilization and become no 
better than a nation of Yankee shopkeepers. 

July 28, Friday. — One continued stream of notes 
and messengers and visitors all day long. I hardly 
had time to eat my breakfast. I spent most of the 
morning nursing John Moore's family, who are all 
sick with the measles. 

We had a dance at Mrs. Margaret Jones's in the 
evening, and I don't think I ever enjoyed anything 
more in my life. I nearly danced my feet off, in spite 
of the hot weather. Between dances, I enjoyed a long 
tete-a-tete with my old Montgomery friend, Dr. Cal- 
houn, who looks so much like Henry. He is a Cousin 
of Corrie and Gene, who are visiting the Robertsons. 



352 THE*^AR-TIME JOURNAL 

He came over from Carolina yesterday, and called to 
see me as soon as he got here, but I was out. It was 
really a pleasure to see him again. . . . 

Gen. Wild has left off his murder cases for the 
present, and turned his attention to more lucrative 
business — that everlasting bank robbery. Some ten 
thousand dollars have been recovered from negroes in 
whose hands it was found, and about a dozen of the 
most respectable citizens of the county are imprisoned 
in the courthouse under accusation of being impli- 
cated. Among them is the wife of our old camp-meet- 
ing friend, Mr. Nish (Dionysius) Chenault, who en- 
tertained Mrs. Davis and her party at his house out on 
the Danburg road as she was on her way here from 
Abbeville. She (Mrs. Chenault) has a little young 
baby with her, and they have imprisoned Mr. Che- 
nault's sister, too, and Sallie, his oldest daughter.* The 
people of Washington wanted to entertain the ladies 
in their homes and give bail for their appearance to 
stand trial, but that bloodhound. Wild, would not per- 
mit them to leave the courthouse. He tied up Mr. 
Chenault by the thumbs and kept him hanging for an 
hour, trying to extort from him treasure that he did 

* The accusation against them was that they had shared in the 
plunder of a box of jewels that the women of the South had con- 
tributed for building a Confederate gunboat, and their own per- 
sonal ornaments were " confiscated " under this pretext. The box 
of jewels was among the assets of the Confederate treasury that 
had been plundered near the village. The fate of these ornaments, 
contributed with such loyal devotion, will probably never be known. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 353 

not possess. He is a large, fat man, weighing nearly 
three hundred pounds, so the torture must have been 
excruciating. His son and brother were tied up, too, 
the latter with his hands behind him, and he was suf- 
fered to hang till they were stretched above his head, 
and he fainted from the pain. And all this on the 
lying accusation of a negro! They even hung up a 
negro man, Tom, because he would not swear to a 
pack of lies inculpating his master. And the Yankees 
pretend to be a civilized people! And these precious 
missionaries of the gospel of abolitionism have come 
out from philanthropic Boston to enlighten us be- 
nighted Southerners on our duty to the negroes, while 
they take a sterling old Wilkes county planter and 
treat him worse than we would do a runaway negro! 
Such diabolical proceedings have not been heard of 
since the days of King James and his thumbscrews. 

Father has suggested that I might make some money 
by writing an account of this robbery business for 
some sensational Northern newspaper, and I mean to 
try it. I don't suppose any of them would publish 
the real truth, even if I could get at it, which seems 
almost impossible, but I will do my best, and it will be 
worth while, if I can only get a chance to let the 
Yankees know how mean they are, even though I do 
have to soften it down. Father is one of Mr. Che- 
nault's counsel, and can tell me all about that part of 
the business. I will make a sensational article, with 
big headlines, and if the thing succeeds, I can make a 



354 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

good many other salable pieces out of what I see going 
on around me every day, especially about the " f reed- 
men " and their doings. I will write as if I were a 
Yankee myself, and in this way get a better chance to 
hit the wretches a few good hard raps over the head 
that they would not take from a Southerner. 

July 29, Saturday. — I invited Emma Reed and Miss 
Ann Simpson to tea, and a terrible thunder storm 
came up that kept them here all night. Marsh went to 
a children's party in the afternoon, and came home 
sick. Garnett spent the day at a barbecue, with the 
usual result, so between them and the thunder, which 
always frightens me out of my wits, I was not in a 
very lively mood. I spent the morning making tomato 
catsup. My eyes are getting so bad that I can hardly 
write half a page without stopping to rest them. Well 
might St. Paul pray to be delivered from this '' Thorn 
in the flesh." 

July 30, Sunday, — The latest sensation is the con- 
fiscation of the Toombs residence. Gen. Wild went 
up there to-day and turned Mrs. Toombs out in the 
most brutal manner. He only allowed her to take her 
clothing and a few other personal effects, peering into 
the trunks after they had been packed, and even un- 
rolling Mrs. Toombs's nightgowns to see if anything 
*' contraband " was concealed in them. A little pin- 
cushion from her workstand which she had given to 
Cora as a keepsake, he jerked out of Ed Morgan's 
hand and cut open with his penknife to see if jewels 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 355 

were not concealed in it. He searched the baggage of 
Bishop Pierce, who was at that moment in the Metho- 
dist church, preaching one of the best sermons I ever 
Hstened to, and made all kinds of sarcastic remarks 
about what he found there. He suffered Ed Morgan's 
trunk and a basket of fine peaches that Mrs. Toombs 
had gathered for Cora, to come to our house unmo- 
lested, as a special favor to Judge Andrews. I don't 
know what the old brute would think of Judge An- 
drews if he knew that in his house were stored at this 
moment Mrs. Toombs's family portraits and a good 
part of her silver plate. He has so little magnanimity 
himself that he will never suspect such a thing as the 
existence of personal esteem between political oppo- 
nents, as father and Gen. Toombs have nearly always 
been. Cora, who was at Mrs. Toombs's with a num- 
ber of other friends while all this was going on, says 
that his manner was as hard and unfeeling as a rock; 
his negro sergeant actually seemed ashamed of him. 
Neither tears, hatred, nor contempt could move him; 
he actually seemed to glory in his odious work. He 
is a little mean-souled edition of that champion perse- 
cutor, the Duke of Alva, and so we call him, for he 
would make an auto da fe of the last one of us poor 
rebels if he could. It is necessary to have some nick- 
name to use when we talk before the servants, and to 
speak very carefully, even then, for every black man 
is a possible spy. Father says we must not even trust 
mammy too far. Never were people subjected to a 



356 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

more thorough and complete system of espionage, and 
by such irresponsible agents. The least bit of careless 
speaking is liable to get one into trouble. John Ficklen 
was arrested and fined merely for saying that he 
wished the bullet that hit Wild's arm had taken off his 
confounded head. Father says he is rather a hand- 
some man, but I would sooner face the devil in his 
worst shape. He is one of those close, secret, cold- 
blooded villains who keeps his own counsel, just like 
Alva of old, when he had a new piece of cruelty to 
perpetrate against the poor Hollanders. Father thinks 
he has something behind, of a still more astounding 
nature than anything he has yet done, and tried to 
sound him, but it was '' no go." Old French, like the 
vain fool of a fanatic that he is, blabs everything he 
knows; father says he saw to the bottom of him in 
two hours. We have not quarreled much about poli- 
tics in the last few days, for when it comes to a situa- 
tion like this, father is too true at the core not to take 
part with his own people. He may love the Union 
as much as he will, but he is too much of a gentleman 
to have any part or parcel in the transactions of men 
like these. Such Pharisaical hypocrites as Wild and 
French make Capt. Cooley seem almost an angel of 
light. We are actually beginning to regard this Yan- 
kee officer as a friend and protector. He undoubtedly 
has behaved like a gentleman in every respect. While 
Gen. Wild and Dr. French make a business of dining 
two or three times a week with a party of negroes at 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 357 

old Uncle Spenser's, Capt. Cooley never associates 
with either of them any more than he can help, and 
does his best to make the negroes behave themselves. 
He says that the two newcomers have given him more 
trouble than all the rebels he ever had to deal with, and 
has been heard to " damn " them soundly. Garnett 
says he is a real good fellow, and my heart has softened 
so that I am not ashamed to think well even of a Yan- 
kee, like him. The young men of the town invited 
him to their barbecue yesterday, and I am glad of it. 

Since the Toombses have been turned out of their 
house, Ed. Morgan has come to stay with us. Mrs. 
DuBose is very near her confinement, but fortunately 
she has friends enough with whom she can find shelter, 
and Gen. DuBose is on his way home. His body- 
servant, who was severely wounded in one of our last 
battles while trying to carry his master some breakfast, 
is at the confiscated house, very ill, and the family are 
reduced to such straits that they can make no provision 
for him. This seems to distress Mrs. Toombs more 
than her own situation. Dr. Lane promised her to 
render the negro medical service, and if Gen. Wild was 
really as fond of the negroes as he pretends to be, he 
would provide the poor fellow with everything else 
he needs — but he leaves that to their rebel masters — 
those cruel slaveholders whose chief delight was to 
torture and murder their negroes. 

July 31, Monday. — The best thing that has ever hap- 
pened since the world began! Old Wild arrested! 



358 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

He had just established himself comfortably in Mrs. 
Toombs's house, where he Announced his intention of 
opening a negro school in the basement, reserving the 
first floor for himself and his gang. One of the 
teachers had come, and Dr. French was in high feather. 
The general himself was reveling in power and wick- 
edness. He had removed his female prisoners from 
the courthouse to an upper room on the square, where 
they were confined on a diet of army rations. Two 
men were arrested for looking at them as they stood at 
a window, under suspicion of making signals, and 
Dick Walton was also arrested as *' guilty of being sus- 
pected." A Reign of Terror was upon us, and things 
were looking very squally indeed, with this agent of 
a tribunal as tyrannical as Robespierre's Jacobins, rid- 
ing over us rough-shod. Men dared not speak with- 
out looking over their shoulder to see if a spy was in 
hearing. Wild, cold and hard as adamant, seemed 
fairly to glory in making himself hated — but thank 
Heaven, his day is over. In the midst of these arbi- 
trary proceedings, just as Dr. Walton had been placed 
under arrest, the afternoon train came in with a fresh 
squad of Yankee soldiers, under the command of 
splendidly caparisoned officers. Our hearts failed at 
the sight, for thus far, in all our experience, a fresh 
arrival of Yankees has meant a fresh train of woes. 
Capt. Semmes was spending his last evening with us, 
before leaving Georgia, and the whole family as- 
sembled on the piazza, as the cavalcade passed our 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 359 

street gate, speculating as to what new calamity was 
about to befall us. But when father came in a little 
later and told us the real object of their visit, we 
clapped our hands and shouted for joy. Cora danced 
a pirouette. Marsh turned a series of somersaults the 
whole length of the piazza, and father himself laughed 
with a right good will. Henry came home in the 
midst of it all and told us that when he first heard the 
news down town, he went into the back room of Bur- 
well Ficklen's office, shut the windows, locked the door, 
and threw his hat up to the ceiling three times. When 
our first burst of joy had subsided, we, too, began to 
look round to see if the negroes were all out of the way, 
and then proceeded to vent our feelings. The down- 
fall of these precious apostles of Abolitionism will have 
a good effect upon the negroes, whom they have all but 
excited to insurrection. Dr. French has been cheating 
and imposing upon them all the time, but the poor, 
ignorant creatures can see nothing wrong in him whom 
they call their " white Jesus," — little knowing what 
horrid blasphemy they are uttering. It has become a 
fashion among them to be married by him, though he 
takes the last cent they have, as a fee. I thought some- 
thing of that kind must be at the bottom of his anxiety 
to " settle the marriage relations " of the negroes. 
One woman left her husband and married another 
man, like Charity did Peter. Husband No. i went to 
Dr. French while he was performing the ceremony, 
and objected to the proceeding, but No. 2 had the 



36o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

woman and the fee on his side, so he carried the day. 
I beHeve this whang-nosed fanatic is a more despicable 
creature than even Gen. Wild; he is one of the sleek, 
unctuous kind that tries to cover his rascality under the 
cloak of religion, but his — (word illegible) comes out 
too strong for that much patched garment to hide. 

Father fears that our rejoicing over the downfall 
of Wild is vain. He says that such a wily rascal 
would hardly commit himself as he has done, without 
good authority. He may have orders from a higher 
power than Gen. Steadman, of which that officer is 
ignorant, and if this be the case, he may not remain 
long under arrest. Those people at Washington are 
capable of anything, and if he should be turned loose 
upon us again, his desire for vengeance will make him 
worse than ever, and then, woe to the Toombses and 
Chenaults, whose complaints to Gen. Steadman caused 
his arrest. 

While we were at supper there was heard a noise 
precisely like the firing of a cannon, but a rumbling 
sound that followed immediately after, convinced us 
it was only a peal of thunder. After we got up from 
the table, Henry took me aside and told me that it 
really was the old cannon, which some young hare- 
brains among the boys had determined to fire off for 
joy at " Alva's " arrest. The rumbling of thunder 
which accompanied it seems almost like an interposi- 
tion of Providence to save our young rebels from the 
possible consequences of their imprudence. Anyway, 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 361 

the old blunderbuss never opened its mouth in a better 
cause. 

After supper, Capt. Semmes, the last of our war 
friends, took his leave. He sets out for New Orleans 
on Wednesday, but will return in a month or two for 
his family. '' I expect Gen. Wild will have you up by 
the thumbs next," he said to me laughing, as he moved 
away. '' You and Miss Metta and Mary would make 
a pretty trio, with your three red heads." 

" I hope," I answered, '' that my new shoes will 
come before I am strung up, for I believe the operation 
is very exposing to the feet." 

It seems unfeeling to jest about such things, and yet, 
we all do it. I suppose the very desperateness of our 
situation makes us reckless. Even father's face was 
one broad sunbeam when he told us of " Alva's " ar- 
rest, and he never shuts us up for abusing him — only 
looks round to see if the doors are closed and none of 
the servants within hearing. For all he is such a 
strong Union man, I am sure that he detests the brute. 
It does my heart good to hear him tell how he took 
advantage of the only legal mistake the old sleuth 
hound made in that murder case, and thus will prob- 
ably save the neck of his client. I am like everybody 
else; I want these men to be punished if they are guilty, 
but not by an illegal, secret military tribunal, nor con- 
victed on negro evidence. Capt. Cooley says they give 
more weight to negro evidence than to that of white 
people. 

24 



362 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Aug. I, Tuesday. — Gen. Wild's negro bodyguard 
left this morning, and it is said we are to be rid of the 
tyrant himself to-morrow. Col. Drayton is reported 
as saying that he would not like to be in Wild's place 
when he gets back to Augusta, and bitterly censures his 
conduct. There seems to be some sense of decency 
left among the Yankee army officers, even yet. This 
Col. Drayton is evidently a gentleman. Bless his 
heart, I feel as if I should really like to shake hands 
with him. Our town is full of Yanks, and new ones 
coming in every day. The last to arrive is a staff 
officer * from the War Department. Something of 
importance must be on foot, but of course we, who are 
most nearly concerned, know not what. We see the 
splendidly-equipped officers dashing about the streets, 
and think bitterly of the days when our own ragged 
rebels were there instead, but we never have time to 
think long before the storm bursts over our heads, 
somebody is plunged into the abyss, and present misery 
leaves no time for vain regrets. 

I sincerely pray that no more negro troops may be 
sent here. Those of Wild were exceedingly insolent, 
and came near raising a riot at the depot just before 
they boarded the cars. They cursed the white citizens 
who happened to be there, threatened to shoot them, 
and were with difficulty restrained by the Yankee offi- 
cers themselves from making good their threat. Our 

* There is obviously some error here as to the official title of the 
person referred 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 363 

white men were compelled to submit to this insolence, 
while hundreds of idle negroes stood around, laughing 
and applauding it. Father came home in a state of 
indignation to which I have rarely seen him wrought 
up. He says it was the most alarming and exasperat- 
ing scene he has yet witnessed. Contrary to every- 
body's expectation, the negro troops are less disposed 
to submit to discipline than the white ones. One 
would think that after the plantation discipline to 
which they have been accustomed, there would be no 
difficulty with them in the army, but the Yankee officers 
say they are the most turbulent and insubordinate 
troops in the service. With Southern men to com- 
mand them they would soon be made to know their 
place, but the Yankees have spoiled them by making a 
hobby of them. They never did know how to treat 
negroes, anyway, and if they don't mind, they will 
raise a spirit which it will be out of their power to lay. 
The negro troops are said to be better fed, better 
clothed, and better paid, than any others in the army, 
and there is a good deal of jealousy already between 
them and their white comrades. Serves them right. 
I wish every wretch of them had a strapping, loud- 
smelling African tied to him like a Siamese twin, and 
that Wild had one on both sides. Oh, how I hate 
them ! I will have to say " Damn ! " yet, before I am 
done with them. 

Aug. 2, Wednesday. — Wild and French have gone 
their way; the Reign of Terror in our town is over 



364 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

for the present. If the Yankees cashier Wild, it will 
give me more respect for them than I ever thought it 
possible to feel. He is the most atrocious villain ex- 
tant. Before bringing the Chenaults to town, he 
went into the country to their home, and tortured all 
the men till Mr. Nish Chenault fainted three times 
under the operation. Then he shut up the two ladies, 
Mrs. Chenault and Sallie, in a room, to be searched by 
a negro woman, with a Yankee officer standing outside 
the door to make sure that it was thoroughly done. 
When the ladies had stripped to their last garment, 
they stopped and objected to undressing any further, 
but were compelled to drop it to the waist. . . . 
Disappointed at not finding any other plunder, the 
Yankees took their watches and family jewelry, and 
$150 in gold that Mr. Chenault had saved through the 
war. I have this from Mrs. Reese, who got it from 
Sallie Chenault herself, after they were released. 
After searching the ladies, they kept them in the woods 
all day, while they searched and plundered the house. 
Miss Chenault says she doesn't suppose there was 
much left in the house worth having, when the Yan- 
kees and negroes had gone through it. I believe all 
the ladies have now been released by Col. Drayton, 
except Mrs. Nish Chenault, who is detained on a 
charge of assault and battery for slapping one of her 
own negro women who was insolent to her ! How are 
the tables turned ! This robbery business furnishes a 
good exposition of Yankee character. Each one that 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 36s 

meddles with it goes off with some of the gold sticking 
to his fingers, and then gets into trouble with the 
others, who are afraid there will be none of it left for 
them. Let a Yankee alone for scenting out plunder. 
Aug. 4, Friday. — Capt. Cooley went out of town on 
some business or other, and it seemed as if the negroes 
and common soldiers would drive the rest of us out 
after him. I went to walk with Mary Semmes in the 
afternoon, and every lady we met on the street had 
had some unpleasant adventure. A negro called to 
Cora, in the most insulting manner, from an upper 
window on the square, and two drunken Yankees ran 
across the street at Mary and me and almost knocked 
us down, whooping and yelling with all their might. 
We were glad to hurry back home, as fast as our feet 
would carry us. Things are coming to such a pass 
that it is unsafe for ladies to walk on the street. The 
town is becoming more crowded with " freedmen " 
every day, and their insolence increases with their 
numbers. Every available house is running over with 
them, and there are some quarters of the village where 
white people can hardly pass without being insulted. 
The negroes are nearly all idle, and most of them live 
by stealing. I don't know what is to become of them 
in winter, when fruits and vegetables are gone. Some- 
times my sympathies are very much excited by the poor 
creatures, notwithstanding their outrageous conduct — 
for which the Yankees are more to blame, after all, 
than they. The other day I met a half -grown boy with 



366 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

all his worldly goods in a little wallet slung over his 
shoulder. He was a poor, ignorant, country darkey, 
and seemed utterly lost in the big world of little Wash- 
ington. He stopped at our street gate as I passed out, 
and asked in a timid voice, almost breaking into sobs : 
*' Does you know anybody what wants to hire a boy, 
mistis ? " I was so sorry for him that I felt like cry- 
ing myself, but I could do nothing. The Yankees 
have taken all that out of our hands, and deprived us 
of the means of caring for even our own negroes. 
There is nothing for it but to harden our hearts against 
sufferings we never caused and have no power to pre- 
vent. Our enemies have done it all; let them glory 
in their work. 

Aug, 5, Saturday. — It rained like fury all the after- 
noon, and I finished my account of the bank robbery 
which I intend trying to sell to one of the New York 
papers. I did my best to get at the exact truth, and 
father did all he could to help me, so I think it is, in 
the main, about as clear a statement of the facts as can 
be got at. Gardiner Foster came over from Elberton 
and spent the evening with us. Somebody is always 
sure to come when I neglect to change my dress in 
the evening. 

Mary Semmes and I took a long walk together be- 
fore breakfast, and met neither Yankees nor negroes. 
The '' freedmen " are living up to their privileges now, 
and leave the early morning hours to us " white trash." 
Willie Robertson told me about an adventure of his 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 367 

that might have strayed out of a " New York Ledger " 
story. Returning home late the other night, from an 
evening call, he found a note under the front door, 
addressed to himself, in blood. Opening it, he found 
inside only a drop of blood! His sisters are fright- 
ened out of their wits about it, but Willie thinks that 
it is only a trick of some darkey he has offended, try- 
ing to *' cunjur " him. Negroes are given to such 
modes of vengeance, and one could easily have gotten 
some Yankee, or other low person, to write the address 
for him. Willie says it is in the cramped hand of an 
illiterate person, such as people of this sort might be 
expected to write. 

Aug, 7, Monday. — Dr. Hardesty left for Baltimore 
and we sent off a big mail to be posted by him there — 
letters to the Elzeys and other friends. 

Garnett brought Taz Anderson and Dr. McMillan 
home to dinner. It seemed just like the quiet ante- 
bellum days, before Washington had become such a 
thoroughfare, and our house a sort of headquarters 
for the officers of two Confederate armies. It was 
almost as if the last four years had been blotted out, 
and all of us transported back for a day, to the time 
when Garnett was a rising young lawyer just beginning 
his career, and used to fill the house with his clients 
and friends. A sense of grinding oppression, a deep 
humiliation, bitter disappointment for the past, and 
hopelessness for the future, and the absence of many 
well known faces that used to meet us, is all that 



368 THe'^A^R-TIME JOURNAL 

marks the change betwixt the now and the then, so 
far as our social life is concerned. The pleasant 
strangers the war brought here have nearly all gone 
their ways, and Washington is becoming nothing but 
a small, dull country village again. Everything re- 
lating to the dear old Confederate times is already so 
completely dead and buried that they seem to have 
existed only in imagination. I feel like one awaking 
from some bright dream, to face the bitter realities of 
a hard, sordid world. The frightful results of its 
downfall are all that remain to tell us that there ever 
was a Southern Confederacy. Oh, for the glorious 
old days back again, with all their hardships and hero- 
ism, with all their ** pomp and circumstance of glorious 
war ! " — for war, with all its cruelty and destruction, 
is better than such a degrading peace as this. 

Aug. 9, Wednesday. — I took a horseback ride before 
breakfast, and learned the '^ catch trot,*' which is a 
great help in riding a rough-going horse. We had a 
dance in the evening, which I did not enjoy much. 
. . . I have sent my account of the bank robbery 
to try its fate with the " New York World.'* In a 
private letter to the editor, I explained that I wrote as 
if I were a Yankee sojourning at the South, in order 
to make some of the hard things it was necessary to 
say in telling the truth, as little unpalatable as possible 
to a Northern public. What a humiliation! But it 
gave me the satisfaction of hitting a few hard knocks 
that I could not have ventured in any other way. I 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 369 

could say : " We have been guilty of " so and so, where 
it would not do to say: '' You have been guilty." * 

Aug. II, Friday. — A charming dance at Mrs. Ben 
Bowdre's. Jim Bryan and Mr. Berry went with Mett 
and me. Garnett took Mary. She had her head 
dressed with a huge pile of evergreens that made her 
look like Birnam Wood coming to Dunsinane. She 
never did have any taste in arranging her hair. 

Aug, 18, Friday. — Just returned from a visit to 
Woodstock, where I had a perfectly charming time. 
Ella Daniel wrote for Minnie Evans to bring out a 
party of us to spend a few days at her house, and for- 
tunately left the selection of the guests to Minnie. Nine 
of us went out Thursday morning and came back this 
afternoon. We left Washington immediately after 
breakfast, and reached Woodstock just in time for 
dinner, after a jolly ride of eighteen miles, with plenty 
of good fruit and melons to eat on the way. Ella and 
her brother, Cicero, were our entertainers. They have 
a large, elegant house, with two beautiful front parlors 
and a wide hall that can be thrown together by means 
of sliding doors — a glorious place for dancing. 
Mamma and Papa Daniel have both departed this life, 
there were no maiden aunts or married sisters to inter- 
fere, and we young people had everything our own 
way. It rained all the first afternoon, so there could 



* The article here alluded to was published a few weeks later 
in the New York "World," under the heading: " A Romance of 
Robbery." 



370 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

be no riding, but we had no reason to regret that, with 
those nice rooms for dancing. We danced half the 
night and then went to our rooms and talked away the 
rest of it. We danced again before breakfast, played 
cards, ate fruit, and idled about the house till dinner- 
time, after which we started back home, though Ella 
and her brother did their best to keep us another day, 
but we thought it would be an imposition, as there 
were so many of us, though their hospitality was equal 
to anything, and they entertained us delightfully. The 
dinners, especially, were charming — none of the awk- 
wardness and constraint one so often finds where peo- 
ple have come together to make a business of enjoy- 
ing themselves. Ed Morgan and his cousin, Tom 
Daniel, joined us at Woodstock and helped on the fun. 
The Daniels are as thick as peas there, — and as nice. 
But pleasant as it all was, the best part of our trip was 
the journey home. Willie Robertson put Buck, our 
driver, on his horse, and he and I mounted the box 
and drove home that way. It was a delightfully cool 
seat — so high and airy; I felt as if I were flying — and 
Willie did make the horses fly. We laughed and sang 
rebel songs, and the whole party were as jolly and as 
noisy as if we had been half -tight. We stopped at 
several country houses on the road to get water, or 
peaches and melons, and sometimes to have a chat with 
the people. 

On reaching home, I found that sister had arrived, 
with the children. There was a big mail, too, with 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 371 

letters from our friends in Richmond and Baltimore, 
and a quantity of Northern papers they sent us. I 
hate the Yankees more and more, every time I look at 
one of their horrid newspapers and read the lies they 
tell about us, while we have our mouths closed and 
padlocked. The world will not hear our story, and 
we must figure just as our enemies choose to paint us. 
The pictures in *' Harper's Weekly " and '' Frank 
Leslie's " tell more lies than Satan himself was ever 
the father of. I get in such a rage when I look at them 
that I sometimes take off my slipper and beat the sense- 
less paper with it. No words can express the wrath 
of a Southerner on beholding pictures of President 
Davis in woman's dress; and Lee, that star of light 
before which even Washington's glory pales, crouch- 
ing on his knees before a beetle-browed image of " Co- 
lumbia," suing for pardon! And these in the same 
sheet with disgusting representations of the execution 
of the so-called '' conspirators " in Lincoln's assassina- 
tion. Nothing is sacred from their disgusting love of 
the sensational. Even poor Harold's sisters, in their 
last interview with him, are pictured for the public 
delectation, in " Frank Leslie's." Andersonville, one 
would think, was bad enough as it was, to satisfy them, 
but no; they must lie even about that, and make it out 
ten times worse than the reality — never realizing that 
they themselves are the only ones to blame for the 
horrors of that " prison pen," as they call it. They 
were the ones that refused to exchange prisoners. Our 



372 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

government could not defend its own cities nor feed 
its own soldiers; how could it help crowding its pris- 
oners and giving them hard fare? I have seen both 
Northern and Southern prisoners, and the traces of 
more bitter suffering were shown in the pinched 
features and half-naked bodies of the latter than ap- 
peared to me even in the faces of the Andersonville 
prisoners I used to pass last winter, on the cars. The 
world is filled with tales of the horrors of Anderson- 
ville, but never a word does it hear about Elmira and 
Fort Delaware. The " Augusta Transcript " was 
suppressed, and its editor imprisoned merely for pub- 
lishing the obituary of a Southern soldier, in which it 
was stated that he died of disease '' contracted in the 
icy prisons of the North." Splendid monuments are 
being reared to the Yankee dead, and the whole world 
resounds with paeans because they overwhelmed us 
with their big, plundering armies, while our Southern 
dead lie unheeded on the fields where they fought so 
bravely, and our real heroes, our noblest and best, the 
glory of human nature, the grandest of God's works, 
are defamed, vilified, spit upon. Oh! you brave un- 
fortunates! history will yet do you justice. Your 
monuments are raised in the hearts of a people whose 
love is stronger than fate, and they will see that your 
memory does not perish. Let the enemy triumph; 
they will only disgrace themselves in the eyes of all 
decent people. They are so blind that they boast of 
their own shame. They make pictures of the ruin of 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 373 

our cities and exult in their work. They picture the 
destitution of Southern homes and gloat over the deso- 
lation they have made. " Harper's " goes so far as to 
publish a picture of Kilpatrick's " foragers " in South- 
West Georgia, displaying the plate and jewels they 
have stolen from our homes ! '' Out of their own 
mouths they are condemned," and they are so base 
they do not even know that they are publishing their 
own shame. 

Aug. 22, Tuesday. — Charity and Mammy both sick, 
and Emily preparing to leave. I don't think the poor 
darkey wants to go, but mother never liked to have 
her about the house, and father can't afford to keep 
such a big family on his hands when he has no use for 
them, though he says he will do all in his power to 
keep them from suffering. Our circumstances are so 
reduced that it is necessary to reduce our establish- 
ment and retrench our expensive manner of living. 
We have not even an errand boy now, for George, the 
only child left on the place, besides Emily's gang, is 
going to school! Sister and I do most of the house- 
work while Mammy and Charity are laid up. Sister 
attended to the bedrooms this morning, while Mett 
and I cleaned up downstairs and mother washed the 
dishes. It is very different from having a servant al- 
ways at hand to attend to your smallest need, but I 
can't say that I altogether regret the change; in fact, 
I had a very merry time over my work. Jim Bryan 
came in while I was sweeping the parlor, to invite 



374 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Garnett, Mett, and me to a party at his house. Then 
came John Ficklen with Ella Daniel, now on a visit 
to Minnie Evans, and Anna Robertson and Dr. Cal- 
houn dropped in later. I had my head tied up in a 
veil to keep the dust off, and a linen apron round my 
waist. They called me " Bridget " and laughed a 
great deal at my blunders and ignorance, such as dust- 
ing the top shelves first and flirting the trash behind 
me as I swept. However, I will soon learn better, and 
the rooms really did look very nice when I got through 
with them. I never saw the parlor and library so 
tidy. I was in high good humor at the result of my 
labors, and the gentlemen complimented me on them. 
I don't think I shall mind working at all when I get 
used to it. Everybody else is doing housework, and it 
is so funny to compare our experiences. Father says 
this is what has made the Anglo-Saxon race great; 
they are not afraid of work, and when put to the test, 
never shirk anything that they know has got to be 
done, no matter how disagreeable. But it does seem 
to me a waste of time for people who are capable of 
doing something better to spend their time sweeping 
and dusting while scores of lazy negroes that are fit 
for nothing else are lying around idle. Dr. Calhoun 
suggested that it would be a good idea to import some 
of those man-apes from Africa and teach them to take 
the place of the negroes, but Henry said that just as 
soon as we had got them tamed, and taught them to be 
of some use, those crazy fanatics at the North would 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 375 

insist on coming down here to emancipate them and 
give them universal suffrage. A good many people 
seem to think that the Yankees are never going 
to be satisfied till they get the negroes to voting. 
Father says it is the worst thing we have to fear 
now. 

Mrs. Bryan's party was charming, though I was 
too tired to enjoy the dancing as much as usual. Mrs. 
Bryan gave us a splendid little supper — the second one 
we have had this summer, besides the few given at our 
house. Most of our entertainments are starvation 
parties. We are too poor to have suppers often, but 
when we do get one we enjoy it famously. Jim Bryan 
and John Ficklen walked home with Metta and me. 
It was nearly three o'clock before we got to bed, and 
then we were both too tired to sleep. My legs ached 
as if they had been in the stocks, but when I become 
more accustomed to hard work, I hope it won't be so 
bad. I think it is an advantage to clean up the house 
ourselves, sometimes, for we do it so much better than 
the negroes. 

The children are having a great time. Cousin Mary 
gave them a little party this evening, and they have 
two or three every week. Julia is a famous belle 
among the little boys. 

Aug. 23, Wednesday. — ^Up very early, sweeping and 
cleaning the house. Our establishment has been 
reduced from 25 servants to 5, and two of these 
are sick. Uncle Watson and Buck do the outdoor 



376 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

work, or rather the small part of it that can be done 
by two men. The yard, grove, orchards, vineyards, 
and garden, already show sad evidences of neglect. 
Grace does the washing and milks the cows, mammy 
cooks, and Charity does part of the housework, when 
well. Cora has hired Maum Rose, a nice old darkey 
that used to belong to the Dunwodys, to wait on her, 
and she is a great help to us. I worked very hard in 
the morning because I had a great deal to do. I got 
through by ten o'clock and was preparing for a nap 
when Cousin Liza came in with some of our country 
kin, and immediately after, Mrs. Jordan, with her 
sister, two children and three servants, came to spend 
the night. Other people came in to dinner — I counted 
twenty at table. Charity was well enough to wait in 
the dining-room, mammy and Emily did the cooking, 
but Mett and I had the other work to do, besides look- 
ing after all the company. I never was so tired in 
my life; every bone in my body felt as if it were ready 
to drop out, and my eyes were so heavy that I could 
hardly keep them open. I don't find doing housework 
quite so much of a joke as I imagined it was going to 
be, especially when we have company to entertain at 
the same time, and want to make them enjoy them- 
selves. By the way, Mrs. Jordan says I was right in 
dusting the top shelves first, so the laugh is on the 
other side. After dinner Mrs. Jordan and Mary An- 
derson wanted to do some shopping, and then we went 
to make some visits. On our return home we met 



' 




rt - 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 377 

Dick and Emily, with their children, at the front gate, 
going out to begin life for themselves. All their 
worldly possessions, considerably increased by gifts of 
poultry, meal, bacon, and other provisions — enough to 
last them till they can make a start for themselves, 
besides crockery and kitchen utensils that mother gave 
them, had gone before in a wagon. Dick's voice 
trembled as he bade me good-by, Emily could not 
speak at all, and Cinthy cried as if her heart would 
break. I felt very much like crying myself — it was 
so pitiful. Poor little Sumter, who has been fed every 
day of his life from father's own hand, as regularly 
as old Toby from mine, was laughing in. great glee, 
little dreaming what is in store for him, I fear. Little 
Charlotte, too, the baby, who always came to me for a 
lump of sugar or a bit of cake whenever she saw me in 
the kitchen, sat crowing in her mother's arms, and 
laughed when she held out her little fat hand to tell me 
good-by. Poor little creature, I wonder how long it 
will be before her little shiny black face will be pinched 
and ashy from want! If it hadn't been for the pres- 
ence of all those strangers, I should have broken down 
and cried outright. Father took some silver change 
out of his purse and placed it in the child's hand, 
and I saw a tear trickle down his cheek as he 
did so. 

Dick has hired himself out to do stable work, and 
has taken his family to live in a house out at Thomp- 
son's, that den of iniquity. I am distressed about 

25 



HE^^. 



378 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

Cinthy, exposed to such temptations, for they say it is 
disgraceful the way those Yankee soldiers carry on 
with the negro women.* 

Altogether it has been a sad, trying day, and as soon 
as I could go to my room and be alone for awhile, I 
sat on the edge of the bed and relieved myself by 
taking a good cry, while Metta, like Rachael — refused 
to be comforted. But we had not long to indulge our 
feelings, for we had promised Minnie Evans to go to 
a dance she was giving for Ella Daniel, and we always 
stand by Minnie, though we would both a great deal 
rather have stayed at home. I was so tired that I 
made Jim Bryan tell the boys not to ask me to dance. 
Mett and Kate Robertson were in the same plight, so 
we hid off in a corner and called ourselves " the 



*The history of Emily and her family is pathetically typical of 
the fate of so many of their class. They multiplied like rats, and 
have dragged out a precarious existence, saved from utter sub- 
mergence through the charity of the young girl whose sympathies 
were always so active in their behalf — Emily having been her 
nurse. Cinthy, whom I was so troubled about, and her next sis- 
ter, Sarah, happily disappointed my fears by marrying respectable 
negro men and leading decent lives. The baby, Charlotte, grew 
up a degenerate of the most irresponsible type, and became the 
mother of five or six illegitimate children, all by different fathers. 
One of her sons was hanged for the " usual crime," committed 
against a little white girl — a very aggravated case — and the record 
of the others would rival that of the Jukes family. The old peo- 
ple, Dick and Emily, superannuated and helpless, are still living 
(1908), sheltered and provided for by their old master's daughter 
(Metta), who still lives on a part of the Haywood estate and has 
been a protecting providence to all of our poor old black people 
that are still living in the village. 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 379 

broom-stick brigade." Kate is a splendid girl; 
she takes to hard work as unmurmuringly as if she 
had been used to it all her life, and always looks 
stylish and pretty, in the face of broom-sticks and 
dish-rags. 

Aug. 24, Thursday. — I had to be up early and clean 
up my room, though half-dead with fatigue. After 
breakfast I went out again with Mrs. Jordan, and we 
were almost suffocated by the dust. While we were 
crossing the square I received a piece of politeness 
from a Yankee, which astonished me so that I almost 
lost my breath. He had a gang of negro vagrants 
with balls and chains, sweeping the street in front of 
their quarters. The dust flew frightfully, but we were 
obliged to pass, and the Yankee ordered the sweeping 
stopped till we were out of the way. I also saw Capt. 
Cooley for the first time. His head was turned away, 
so I took a good look at him, and his appearance was 
not bad at all — that is, he would be a very good-looking 
man in any other dress than that odious Yankee blue. 
He is very anxious to visit some of the girls in Wash- 
ington, I hear, but says that he knows he would not be 
received. He saw the Robertson girls pass his quar- 
ters one day, and said to some men standing near: 
" Oh, I wish I wasn't a Yankee ! " 

Our friends left soon after dinner. Mrs. Jordan 
wanted Mett and me to go home with her and attend 
a big country dance at old Mrs. Huling's. We would 
like to go, but have no driver, and could not leave our 



38o THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

work at home — to say nothing of the state of our 
wardrobes. I had no time to rest after dinner, being 
obHged to take a long walk on business and having 
neither carriage-driver nor errand-boy. I was so tired 
at night that I went to bed as soon as I had eaten my 
supper. 

Aug. 25, Friday. — The Ficklens sent us some books 
of fashion brought by Mr. Boyce from New York. 
The styles are very pretty, but too expensive for us 
broken-down Southerners. I intend always to dress 
as well as my means will allow, but shall attempt noth- 
ing in the way of finery so long as I have to sweep 
floors and make up beds. It is more graceful and 
more sensible to accept poverty as it comes than to 
try to hide it under a flimsy covering of false appear- 
ances. Nothing is more contemptible than broken- 
down gentility trying to ape rich vulgarity — not even 
rich vulgarity trying to ape its betters. For my part, 
I am prouder of my poverty than I ever was of my 
former prosperity, when I remember in what a noble 
cause all was lost. We Southerners are the Faubourg 
St. Germain of American society, and I feel, with per- 
fect sincerity, that my faded calico dress has a right 
to look with scorn at the rich toilettes of our plun- 
derers. Notwithstanding all our trouble and wretched- 
ness, I thank Heaven that I was born a Southerner, — 
that I belong to the noblest race on earth — for this is 
a heritage that nothing can ever take from me. The 
greatness of the Southern character is showing itself 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 381 

beyond the mere accidents of time and fortune ; though 
reduced to the lowest state of poverty and subjection, 
we can still feel that we are superior to those whom 
brute force has placed above us in worldly state. 
Solomon says : '' Better is a living dog than a dead 
lion," but I don't believe it, even if it is in the 
Bible.* 

Aug. 2y, Sunday. — The bolt has fallen. Mr. 
Adams, the Methodist minister, launched the thunders 
of the church against dancing, in his morning dis- 
course. Mr. Montgomery wanted to turn his guns on 
us, too, but his elders spiked them. I could not help 
being amused when Mr. Adams placed dancing in the 
same category with bribery, gambling, drunkenness, 
and murder. He fell hard upon wicked Achan, who 
caused Israel to sin, and I saw some of the good 
brethren on the '' amen " benches turn their eyes upon 
me. I was sitting near the pulpit, under full fire, and 
half-expected to hear him call me " Jezabel," but I sup- 
pose he is reserving his heavy ammunition for the 
grand attack he is going to make next Sunday. The 
country preachers have been attacking us, too, from all 



*Some idea of the poverty and distress to which our people 
were reduced as a result of the war may be gathered from the fact 
that the aggregate wealth of Georgia, estimated at the last census 
before the war, was in round numbers $672,000,000, and at the 
next census after the war this valuation had fallen to $160,000,000. 
At present (1907), after forty-five years of struggle and effort, the 
estimated wealth of the " Empire State of the South " still falls 
short by some $30,000,000 of what it was in i860. 



r^^ 



382 THE W^R-TIME JOURNAL 

quarters. I understand that some of them have given 
Washington over to destruction, and the country peo- 
ple call it " Sodom." I thought I should die laughing 
when I first heard of this name being applied to our 
quiet, innocent little village — though it might not have 
been such a misnomer when the " righteous Lot " was 
in our midst. It is a pity that good, pious people, as 
some of these preachers undoubtedly are, should be so 
blinded by prejudice. I wish we had an Episcopal 
Church established here to serve as a refuge for the 
many worthy people who are not gamblers and mur- 
derers, but who like to indulge in a little dancing now 
and then. 

Aug. 29, Tuesday. — . . . Capt. Cooley is to 
be removed and Washington is to have a new com- 
mander. Everybody regrets it deeply, and the gentle- 
men proposed getting up a petition to have him re- 
tained, but finally concluded that any such proceeding 
would only render his removal the more certain. I do 
not know the name of our new master, but they say 
he is drunk most of the time, and his men are the ones 
that acted so badly in the case of Mr. Rhodes, near 
Greensborough. One of Mr. Rhodes's '' freedmen " 
lurked in the woods around his plantation, committing 
such depredations that finally he appealed to the gar- 
rison at Greensborough for protection. The comman- 
dant ordered him to arrest the negro and bring him to 
Greensborough for trial. With the assistance of some 
neighboring planters, Mr. Rhodes succeeded in making 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 383 

the arrest, late one evening. He kept the culprit at his 
house that night, intending to take him to town next 
day, but in the meantime, a body of negroes marched 
to the village and informed the officer that Mr. Rhodes 
and his friends were making ready to kill their pris- 
oner at midnight. A party of bluecoats was at once 
dispatched to the Rhodes plantation, where they ar- 
rived after the family had gone to bed. Without 
waiting for admission, they fired two shots into the 
house, one of which killed Mrs. Rhodes's brother. 
They left her alone with the dead man, on a plantation 
full of insolent negroes, taking the rest of the men 
to Greensborough, where the Yankees and negroes 
united in swearing that the Rhodes party had fired 
upon them. Mr. Rhodes was carried to Augusta, and 
on the point of being hanged, when a hitch in the evi- 
dence saved his life. The Yankees themselves con- 
fessed to having fired two shots, of which the dead 
man, and a bullet lodged in the wall, were proof posi- 
tive. But the negroes, not knowing the importance of 
their admission (for want of being properly coached, 
no doubt) gave evidence that only two shots in all had 
been fired. When they found that it went against 
them, the Yankees tried to throw out the negro evi- 
dence altogether, but here Miss Columbia's passion for 
her black paramour balked them. Mr. Rhodes's life 
was saved, but his property was confiscated — when 
did a Yankee ever lose sight of the plunder? — while 
the wretch who shot his brother-in-law was merely 



384 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

removed from Greensborough to another garrison. 
This and the Chenault case are samples of the peace 
they are offering us. Heaven grant me rather the 
horrors of war! . . . 

[Note.— The rest of the MS. is missing, the last pages being 
torn from the book.] 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 385 



CONCLUSION 

Here the record ends, amid the gloom and desola- 
tion of defeat — a gloom that was to be followed ere 
long by the still blacker darkness of Reconstruction. 
Yet, I would not have the reader draw from its pages 
a message of despair, but of hope and courage under 
difficulties; for disaster cheerfully borne and honor- 
ably overcome, is not a tragedy, but a triumph. And 
this, the most glorious of all conquests, belongs to the 
South. Never in all history, has any people recovered 
itself so completely from calamity so overwhelming. 
By the abolition of slavery alone four thousand mil- 
lions worth of property were wiped out of existence. 
As many millions more went up in the smoke and ruin 
of war; while to count in money the cost of the 
precious lives that were sacrificed, would be, I will not 
say an impossibility, but a desecration. 

I do not recall these things in a spirit of bitterness 
or repining, but with a feeling of just pride that I 
belong to a race which has shown itself capable of 
rising superior to such conditions. We, on this side of 
the line, have long since forgiven the War and its in- 
evitable hardships. We challenged the fight, and if 
we got more of it in the end than we liked, there was 
nothing for it but to stand up like men and take our 



386 THE WAR-TIME JOURNAL 

medicine without whimpering. It was the hand that 
struck us after we were down that bore hardest; yet 
even its iron weight was not enough to break the spirit 
of a people in whom the Anglo-Saxon blood of our 
fathers still flows uncontaminated ; and when the in- 
satiable crew of the carpet-baggers fell upon us to 
devour the last meager remnants left us by the spolia- 
tion of war, they were met by the ghostly bands of 
*' The Invisible Empire," who through secret vigilance 
and masterful strategy saved the civilization they were 
forbidden to defend by open force. 

To conquer fate is a greater victory than to conquer 
in battle, and to conquer under such handicaps as were 
imposed on the South is more than a victory; it is a 
triumph. Forced against our will, and against the 
simplest biological and ethnological laws, into an un- 
natural political marriage that has brought forth as its 
monstrous offspring a race problem in comparison with 
which the Cretan Minotaur was a suckling calf; robbed 
of the last pitiful resource the destitution of war had 
left us, by a prohibitory tax on cotton, our sole com- 
mercial product; discriminated against for half a cen- 
tury by a predatory tariff that mulcts us at every turn, 
from the cradle to the grave; giving millions out of 
our poverty to educate the negro, and contributing mil- 
lions more to reward the patriotism of our conquerors, 
whose imperishable multitudes as revealed by the pen- 
sion rolls, make the four-year resistance of our thin 
gray bands one of the miracles of history; yet, in spite 



OF A GEORGIA GIRL 387 

of all this, and in spite of the fact that the path of our 
progress has been a thorny one, marked by many an 
unwritten tragedy of those who went down in the 
struggle, too old, or too deeply rooted in the past to 
adapt themselves to new conditions, we have, as a peo- 
ple, come up out of the depths stronger and wiser for 
our battle with adversity, and the land we love has 
lifted herself from the Valley of Humiliation to a pin- 
nacle of prosperity that is the wonder of more favored 
sections. 

And so, after all, our tale of disaster is but the pre- 
lude to a triumph in which one may justly glory with- 
out being accused of vainglory. It is good to feel that 
you belong to a people that you have a right to be 
proud of; it is good to feel coursing in your veins the 
blood of a race that has left its impress on the civiliza- 
tion of the world wherever the Anglo-Saxon has set 
his foot. And to us, who bore the storm and stress 
and the tragedy of those dark days, it is good to re- 
member that if the sun which set in blood and ashes 
over the hills of Appomattox has risen again in splen- 
dor on the smiling prospect of a New South, it is be- 
cause the foundations of its success were laid in the 
courage and steadfastness and hopefulness of a gen- 
eration who in the darkest days of disaster, did not 
despair of their country. 

(1) 

THE END 



VIVID, MOVING, SYMPATHETIC HUMOROUS, 



A Diary from Dixie. 

By Mary Boykin Chesnut. Being her Diary from 
November, 1861, to August, 1865. Edited by Isabella D. 
Martin and Myrta Lockett Avary. Illustrated. 8vo. Orna- 
mental Cloth, $2.50 net; postage additional. 

Mrs. Chesnut was the most brilliant woman that the South 
has ever produced, and the charm of her writing is such as to 
make all Southerners proud and all Northerners envious. She was 
the wife of James Chesnut, Jr., who was United States Senator 
from South Carolina from 1859 to 1861, and acted as an aid to 
President Jefferson Davis, and was subsequently a Brigadier-Gen- 
eral in the Confederate Army. Thus it was that she was intimately 
acquainted with all the foremost men in the Southern cause. 

*' In this diary is preserved the most moving and vivid record of the South- 
ern Confederacy of which vi^e have any knowledge. It is a piece of social 
history of inestimable value. It interprets to posterity the spirit in which the 
Southerners entered upon and struggled through the war that ruined them. 
It paints poignantly but with simplicity the wreck of that old world which had 
so much about it that was beautiful and noble as well as evil. Students of 
American life have often smiled, and with reason, at the stilted and extrava- 
gant fashion in which the Southern woman had been described south of Mason 
and Dixon's hne — the unconscious self-revelations of Mary Chesnut explain, 
if they do not justify, such extravagance. For here, we cannot but beiieve, 
is a creature of a fine type, a ' very woman,' a very Beatrice, frank, impetuous, 
loving, full of sympathy, full of humor. Like her prototype, she had preju- 
dices, and she knew little of the Northern people she criticised so severely ; 
but there is less bitterness in these pages than we might have expected. Per- 
haps the editors have seen to that. However this may be they have done 
nothing to injure the writer's own nervous, unconventional style— a style 
breathing character and temperament as the flower breathes fragrance." 

— New York Tribune. 

"It is written straight from the heart, and with a natural grace of style 
that no amount of polishing could have imparted."— C7«<:^^(3 Record-Herald. 

"The editors are to be congratulated ; it is not every day that one comes 
on such material as this long-hidden diary." — Louisville Evening Post. 

" It is a book that would have delighted Charles Lamb." 

— Houston Chronicle. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



UNLIKE ANY OTHER BOOK. 
A Virginia Girl in the Civil War. 

Being the Authentic Experiences of a Confederate 
Major's Wife who followed her Husband into Camp at 
the Outbreak of the War, Dined and Supped with General 
J. E. B. Stuart, ran the Blockade to Baltimore, and was 
in Richmond when it was Evacuated. Collected and 
edited by Myrta Lockett Avary. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25 
net ; postage additional. 

•' The people described are gentlefolk to the back-bone, and the reader 
must be a hard-hearted cynic if he does not fall in love with the ingenuous 
and delightful girl who tells the story." — New York Sun. 

•' The narrative is one that both interests and charms. The beginning of 
the' end of the long and desperate struggle is unusually well told, and how 
the survivors lived during the last days of the fading Confederacy forms a 
vivid picture of those distressful times." — Baltimore Herald. 

"The style of the narrative is attractively informal and chatty. Its 
pathos is that of simplicity. It throws upon a cruel period of our national 
career a side-light, bringing out tender and softening interests too little visi- 
ble in the pages of formal history." — New York World. 

•' This is a tale that will appeal to every Southern man and woman, and 
can not fail to be of interest to every reader. It is as fresh and vivacious, 
even in dealing with dark days, as the young soul that underwent the hard- 
ships of a most cruel war." — Louisville Courier- Journal. ■* 

" The narrative is not formal, is often fragmentary, and is always warmly 
human. . . . There are scenes among the dead and wounded, but as one 
winks back a tear the next page presents a negro commanded to mount a 
strange mule in midstream, at the injustice of which he strongly protests." — 
New York Telegram. 

"Taken at this time, when the years have buried all resentment, dulled 
all sorrows, and brought new generations to the scenes, a work of this kind 
can not fail of value just as it can not fail in interest. OfBcial history moves 
with two great strides to permit of the smaller, more intimate events ; fiction 
lacks the realistic, powerful appeal of actuality ; such works as this must be 
depended upon to fill in the unoccupied interstices, to show us just what 
were the lives of those who were in this conflict or who lived in the midst of 
it without being able actively to participate in it. And of this type ' A Vir- 
ginia Girl in the Civil War' is a truly admirable example."— Philadelphia 
Record. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



A ROMANCE OF THE QVIL WAR. 

The Victory. 

By Molly Elliott Seawell, author of "The 
Chateau of Montplaisir," ♦' The Sprightly Romance 
of Marsac," etc. Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50. 

" With so delicate a touch and appreciation of the detail 
of domestic and plantation life, with so wise comprehension 
of the exalted and sometimes stilted notions of Southern 
honor and with humorous depiction of African fidelity and 
bombast to interest and amuse him, it only gradually dawns 
on a reader that *The Victory* is the truest and most 
tragic presentation yet before us of the rending of home 
ties, the awful passions, the wounded affections personal 
and national, and the overwhelming questions of honor 
which weighed down a people in the war of son against 
father and brother against brother." — Hartford Courant, 

" Among the many romances written recently about the 
Civil War, this one by Miss Seawell takes a high place. . . . 
Altogether, *The Victory,* a title significant in several 
ways, makes a strong appeal to the lover of a good tale.** 

— The Outlook, 

" Miss Seawell's narrative is not only infused with a 
tender and sympathetic spirit of romance and surcharged 
with human interests, but discloses, in addition, careful and 
minute study of local conditions and characteristic man- 
nerisms. It is an intimate study of life on a Virginia 
plantation during an emergent and critical period of Amer- 
ican history." — Philadelphia North American. 

" It is one of the romances that make, by spirit as well as 
letter, for youth and high feeling. It embodies, perhaps, the 
best work this author yet has done." — Chicago Record-Herald. 

"Aside from the engaging story itself and the excellent 
manner in which it is told there is much of historic interest 
in this vivid word-picture of the customs and manners of a 
period which has formed the background of much fiction.'* 

— Brooklyn Citizen, 

D. APPLETON and company, new YORK 



^DsLting in conception and fulfilment/' 

— Boston Heralds, 



Mills of God. 

By Elinor Macartney Lane. Illustrated. i2m'>. 
Cloth, $1.50. 

" It is a good novel in comparison to even the best in current Amer 
lean fiction." — The New York Herald. 

"The reader will not willingly lay aside the book till the end is 
reached. The story is exceedingly well writtta and thoroughly well 
told."— r>4^ Washington Post. 

" The story shows maturity, resource, and distinction. It combines 
the dash and valor of the favorite school of fiction with the poise, acute- 
ness, and refinement of the reflective type. It is compact of fresh, 
generous character creation, appealing and exquisite." — Boston Times. 

" Her theme is daring and delicate. Notwithstanding, the final 
product more than justifies the choice, the story is strong and fearlessly 
told, the novel exceptional in finish and the careful balance of its parts." 

— The Washington Star, 

" ' Mills of God* is said to be a woman's first novel, and if this be 
true the writer, Elinor Macartney Lane, has much to be proud of. She 
has studied her art and has a serious view of it. It is a well-written, 
interesting, and readable novel." — New York Times Saturday Review, 

" She certainly will be heard from again and more insistently. Not 
only for the pleasure it gives, but still more for the intellectual delight 
of watching from the first the development of a new writer, * Mills of 
God ' deserves wide attention. Its writer ' a coming author." 

— ew York Mail and Express. 

" A romance of extraordinary charm and carries its absorbing story 
along with triumphant decision. The ideals of the book are high, and 
the romance is too gallant to leave the mind of the reader in a depressed 
condition." — Chicago Tribune. 

•• A brilliant romance of Virginia ; a 'eftly woven tale, with passion's 
power for good and evil as its theme, virs. Lane has a vivacious, spir- 
ited, graphic way of telling a story and portraying character. Her 
dialogue has an air of life, and is even pointed and piquant. She has 
pictured with power, yet with delicacy .nd reserve, the dawn of a great 
passion, the futile struggle against it, a.id the surrf nder." 

— c hie ago Record- Herald. 

**A mighty good romance. The characters are complex human 
beings, instead of lay-figures for the display of ready-made chivalry, 
and one remembers both them and their history after laying down the 
book." — Life. 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK. 



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